Unguarded Moment (4 page)

She added some gloss to her lips.

'There is nothing to stop anyone, any time, writing a book about you,' Alix pointed out patiently. 'It's surreally that no one's thought of doing it before. As I see it, if you refuse to have anything to do with it, you're deliberately forfeiting any control you might have over the content.'

Bianca swivelled round on her dressing stool. 'You sound as if you're on this man's side!'

'That's the last thing I am,' Alix muttered vehemently. 'But he worries me.'

'I can't imagine why he should.' Bianca was still watching her, her brows raised curiously. 'I should be worried, if anyone is. Why should you be so concerned?'

Alix met her gaze steadily. 'I hardly know. Perhaps it could have something to do with the fact that you're a blood relation as well as my employer.'

'How very touching!' Bianca's lip curled. 'Well, don't fret on my behalf, darling child. I can take care of myself.'

Alix felt a full flush creep into her face. There was a bite in Bianca's tone which was bound to hurt. It was one of the things she had never been able to understand. She supposed Bianca had offered the job in the first place because she was her niece, and therefore she could expect more than usual loyalty from her, and yet her aunt had never treated her as if she was a relation. Alix could never say that she had received any kind of indulgence from Bianca, and not much affection either. Any tentative attempts by Alix to infuse some warmth into their relationship had always been resisted.

Alix had learned to come to terms with it, of course, mainly by telling herself that this should be regarded as just another job, and that Bianca should be regarded as just another employer. In other circumstances she would expect only to do what she was paid for and accept her salary. Yet at the same time she was realistic enough to know that Bianca made demands on her which no stranger would ever accede to.

She had tried once to explain this to her mother, but Margaret Coulter's face had hardened.

'Did you really expect anything different?' she asked roughly. 'Bianca always did want to eat her cake and have it at the same time. She was selfish and unfeeling from the day she was born. She expected everything and everyone to revolve round her like—like satellites around a moon. And now you're caught too.'

Alix had been too shaken by the depth of feeling in her mother's voice to do more than offer a token protest, but afterwards she had wondered whether what Margaret had said was true. Was she beguiled into acquiescence by the undoubted glamour of Bianca's personality? She was guiltily aware that she had been tactless in the way she had talked about her job at home. She tried unobtrusively from then on to demonstrate to Margaret that she still came first in her affections, but she wasn't altogether sure that she succeeded. In fact, the more she became absorbed in her job and its hectic demands, the farther she seemed to grow away from her family as a whole. Presumably they felt that someone who travelled the world in Bianca's wake might find the ups and downs of their everyday life less than fascinating, she thought wryly.

The most hurtful thing of all had been a few months ago when she had returned from California to find that nineteen-year-old Debbie was engaged, and that the party to celebrate it had been held in her absence.

She'd tried to pretend it didn't matter, to argue with herself that they couldn't have waited for her erratic timetable to bring her back to London again, but the pain lingered.

She often felt as if she occupied a kind of limbo. Her family had learned to live without her, had apparently closed the circle against her, and her only value to Bianca lay in her general efficiency and usefulness.

'I'll talk to Leon over lunch,' Bianca announced, scrutinising her flawless complexion through narrowed eyes. 'He should be able to think of something to get me off the hook.'

'I hope so,' Alix said with a sigh. 'Perhaps he'll be able to convince Mr Brant that you haven't anything to hide.'

'What on earth do you mean?' Bianca demanded sharply.

Alix met her eyes in the mirror. 'Oh, it was just something that he implied—that you didn't want him to write the book because there could be something you didn't want him to find out about.' She tried to smile rather uncertainly. 'I tried to tell him he was wrong, but I'm not sure I was successful.' She broke off, uneasily, staring at Bianca's reflection, aware of a certain rigidity in her expression, and that the colour had faded in her face, emphasising the carefully applied blusher on her cheekbones.

Alix said sharply, 'Is something wrong? Surely there's nothing that he could find out…'

'Of course there's nothing,' Bianca snapped. 'I can't understand what's got into you, Alix. You're usually so level-headed and sensible, but this man seems to have sent your wits begging. Either that or going on holiday makes you lose all sense of proportion. You'd better take the rest of the day off and get a grip on yourself. I'll see you tomorrow.'

'Thanks,' Alix returned with a touch of irony. A small voice inside her head was saying that if Bianca retained her own sense of proportion about Liam Brant and the biography project, this whole situation would never have arisen, but of course she would never say so. 'I think I'll go home.'

'That will be nice.' Bianca turned away from the mirror, with a final look at her appearance. 'Give them all my best, won't you,' she added indifferently.

From the window, Alix watched Bianca climb into the waiting taxi and speed off to her lunch engagement with her agent. She could imagine the scene as Bianca entered the restaurant, see the admiring glances, hear the murmurs of recognition as she made her way to her table. Even a simple action like that became a performance, executed with the utmost confidence and panache.

And yet, a few minutes earlier, she had seen the mask slip. For a moment Bianca had been caught off balance, and Alix found herself wondering why, that indefinable sense of unease deepening. It was impossible, of course, that anyone who had lived her life as fully, and often as scandalously, revelling in the publicity, as Bianca could really have any kind of secret to conceal. She could have sworn that all Bianca's cupboards were open for inspection and lacking in skeletons of any kind.

At least I hope so, she thought as she turned away from the window.

Her first thought when she pushed open the back door and entered the kitchen was that her mother looked tired. But that could just be because she had been baking all morning for the local church's charity cake stall, she told herself.

'You've lost weight,' she teased as she hugged her mother.

'And not before time either,' Margaret said with a grimace. 'Just let me get this last batch out of the oven and I'll make us some tea.'

'That will be lovely.' Alix settled herself beside the kitchen table and stole a jam tart from the baking tray. 'No need to hurry. I have all day.'

'Oh dear!' Margaret looked at her quickly. 'I wish you'd telephoned, dear. You see, we're going out this evening to have a meal with Paul's parents—to talk over wedding details. Mrs Frensham's only expecting the three of us. I don't really see…'

'It doesn't matter,' Alix said quickly. 'I wouldn't dream of pushing in. I have loads of things to do, as it is—unpacking properly, for starters. And I wouldn't mind an early night. When is the wedding, or haven't they decided yet?'

'I think that's one of the things we're going to thrash out tonight. Both sides feel that they're rather young, but,' Margaret smiled fondly, 'I don't suppose they'll allow our opinions to carry too much weight They're very much in love.'

'I'm glad for Debbie.' Alix meant it. Debbie had always been her cherished younger sister. 'I remember when we were children, she was always playing house. I was the one who was falling out of trees.'

'No, she never had your love of adventure. I suppose I always hoped that she would find a nice boy and settle down, so I can't really complain that she has done, even if it's rather sooner than I expected.'

'And what about me?' Alix suddenly wanted to cry. 'What did you hope for me? Have I fulfilled your expectations, or am I a disappointment?'

She should have been able to ask, but somehow it was impossible, so she helped herself to another jam tart, and began to talk about Rhodes, producing the presents she had brought back for them all, laughing and chattering as if there was no subdued ache in her heart at all. As if everything was fine, and she was the beloved elder daughter who had never been away.

Except of course it wasn't like that, and never would be again. Alix supposed the invisible barrier which had grown up was of her own making. She had underestimated the depth of her mother's hurt when she decided to go and work for Bianca. Underestimated it, because she didn't understand it.

Things might have been better when Debbie came home at teatime, but oddly they weren't Debbie's greeting was perfunctory, and although she thanked Alix for her gift, her heart wasn't in it.

'Three weeks on Rhodes.' Her tone was frankly envious. 'The most Paul and I can hope for is a few days in Bournemouth, or somewhere.'

Alix glanced at the pretty, discontented face and made up her mind.

'Would you like a glamorous honeymoon as a wedding present?' she asked.

'No, thanks.' The swiftness of Debbie's response was almost insulting.

'Why not?' Alix enquired.

Debbie shrugged. 'We'll manage,' she said. 'I don't want to start my married life on your charity.'

Alix felt as if she had been pierced to the heart, but she managed to say equably, 'I'm sorry that you see it like that. I really didn't intend…'

'It doesn't matter what you intended,' Debbie cut across her rudely. 'We're quite all right as we are. We don't need you playing Lady Bountiful.'

That's quite enough, Debbie.' Margaret, who had been out of the room, had returned in time to hear the last part of the exchange. She went on, 'You'll have to excuse her, Alix. She's rather on edge these days.' ',

'Perhaps I'd better go.' Alix stood up, reaching for her bag. She was desperately afraid that she might burst into tears. Until she had left home, she and Debbie had shared a room, had confided in each other, giggled and occasionally quarrelled. Now they could be strangers.

'I'll see you out,' said Debbie.

'There's really no need.' Alix let a note of sarcasm enter her voice. 'This is still my home, and I've no intention of stealing anything on my way through the hall.'

'Alix!' her mother protested, smiling nervously. 'I'm sure Debbie didn't mean that.'

Alix gave her a quick kiss, aware of the tightness in her throat. 'Goodbye, love, and look after yourself. I— I'll telephone first next time.'

She walked through the hall without looking back, and shut the front door behind her. Then, feeling dazed, she made her way down the path to the gate. She was sure that Debbie was watching her from the front room window, but pride forbade that she should turn and, confirm her certainty. It was raining lightly again, and she turned up the collar of her cream trench coat, and pushed her hands into her pockets as she hurried along towards the station.

What a total disaster of a day this had been! The grey skies as she flew in that morning had been an omen.

'I should have flown right out again,' she told herself with mordant humour.

Walking along, her head bent, she didn't see the figure approaching until she found herself in a mini-collision.

She said, 'I'm so sorry…' and broke off as a female voice exclaimed delightedly, 'Alix—Alix Coulter! How marvellous! Don't you remember me?'

Alix looked into the smiling face of Gemma Allan, an old school friend.

'Gemma—you're the last person I expected to see.'

'I can't think why. Didn't your mother tell you that Dave and I had bought the house on the corner? Didn't she give you my message?'

Alix shook her head bewilderedly. 'She must have forgotten. And of course I've been away—abroad.'

'That I can see.' Gemma whistled appreciately. 'Is that an all-over tan, may one enquire? I'm brown too, of course, but with me it's rust.'

'Oh, Gemma!' To her horror, Alix heard her voice become choky. 'It's so great to see you.' To see a friendly face, she almost said.

'Hey,' Gemma took her arm, peering at her with concern, 'what's the matter? You're upset—what is It? Your mother?'

'Not really,' Alix shook her head, fighting back her tears. 'Oh, God, this is awful. I can't stand in the middle of the road bawling like a baby.'

'Then come and bawl in our house,' Gemma said soothingly. 'Dave won't be home for at least another hour.'

By the time they were settled in Gemma's small sitting room, Alix had managed to regain control of herself.

'I'm sorry to have behaved like an idiot,' she began.

'Think nothing of it,' Gemma said largely. 'Don't forget I'm used to it, having been at school with you. What's troubling you? You haven't had the sack from the dream job of yours?'

Alix smiled drearily. 'No, but I sometimes wonder whether I did the right thing in taking it in the first place.'

Gemma stared at her. 'Well, it has to be better than a lifetime of 'Now this conveyance witnesseth as follows',' she said drily. 'Is it man trouble?'

'It is a man, and he is trouble, but not in the way that you mean,' Alix said ruefully. 'Look, the simplest thing is if I give you a quick run-down on 'My Day so Far'.'

Gemma sat and listened attentively, her sole comment being, 'Little bitch,' when Alix described Debbie's reaction to her offer of a honeymoon.

'She must be very unhappy,' Alix said slowly.

'She must be very jealous,' Gemma retorted.

'But she had no reason to be jealous of me,' Alix protested. 'She's always done exactly what she wanted, and now she's going to be married.'

Gemma looked at her pityingly. 'Look, love, Debbie would envy a dead man his coffin. Haven't you seen through her yet? She's probably as mad as fire that she wasn't offered your job.'

'But she couldn't have been. She hadn't even left school…'

'That's the reasonable point of view. Debbie wouldn't see it like that. She would see it as you getting a chance she'd been denied. Being married is the only other option open to her. I hope, for her fiancé's sake, that it works. Now, about this other business, why do you suppose Bianca doesn't want her biography written?'