Her mind raced round seeking comfort, but she found none. She saw her dishevelled clothes in the bedroom, the unstoppered make-up, the cellophane pack which had contained her new tights. She remembered the excitement with which she’d dressed. She’d been so sure, she’d even turned off her electric blanket. She crept between the sheets and shivered until dawn.
Chapter Eighteen
As Wednesday approached Cory grew more and more impossible, snapping at Mrs Bottomley, the children and, most of all, at Harriet.
On Tuesday night he was going to a dinner in Leeds and asked Harriet to iron a white dress shirt for him. She took considerable pains over it but, unfortunately, Ambrose, who had been looking for mice in the coal hole, walked all over it when she wasn’t looking.
Cory hit the roof. ‘Can’t you ever concentrate on one thing for more than five minutes?’
Harriet lost her temper. She had been cooking all day for tomorrow’s lunch and she had a headache.
‘If you didn’t make people so nervous, they might stop making a hash of things.’
‘Go on!’ he said glaring at her.
‘I don’t mind you shouting at me. But I don’t see why you should take it out on Mrs Bottomley and the children. It’s not their fault your rotten wife’s turning up tomorrow.’
Oh, God, she thought, as his face twisted with rage. I’ve really put my foot in it now.
‘It would be as well if you remembered whose house this is, and who pays your salary!’ he said, stalking out of the room.
Half-an-hour later she heard the front door bang and his car drive off with a whirring sound of gravel.
Gibbering with rage, Harriet ate a large piece of walnut cake, and then another piece, and was just embarking on a third, when she heard a step and nearly jumped out of her skin as two hands grabbed her round the waist and a familiar voice said, ‘Guess who?’
Leaping away, choking over the walnut cake, she swung round and looked up through streaming eyes into a handsome, decadent face. There was something familiar about the dark eyes, which were now narrowed to slits with laughter.
‘Hullo, darling,’ he said. ‘I’m Kit Erskine.’
‘Goodness, you surprised me.’
‘Oh, I’m full of surprises. Where’s Cory?’
‘Out, gone to Leeds.’
‘That’s good. We’re alone at last.’
‘Mrs Bottomley’s upstairs,’ said Harriet hastily, backing away.
‘How is old Botters?’
‘On the scurry — sweeping under carpets. Mrs Erskine and Ronnie Acland are coming to lunch tomorrow, so there’s a lot to do.’
Kit whistled. ‘They are? What a carve-up. That cake looks good.’ He cut himself a large piece. ‘I’m starving. Where shall we have dinner?’
‘I can’t,’ said Harriet. ‘I’ve got to. .’
‘Wash your hair,’ said Kit. ‘Don’t worry. You can give Noel a good ten years.’
At that moment Mrs Bottomley walked in with a feather duster.
‘Master Kit!’ she squeaked. ‘Whatever are you doing here?’
‘Botters! Darling!’ He gathered her up as though she were light as a feather, and carried her round the room.
‘Put me down, Master Kit!’ she protested, half laughing, her legs going like a centipede.
The kitchen was large, but with Kit’s arrival, it seemed to shrink. He polished off three double whiskies and most of the walnut cake, and exchanged gossip with Mrs Bottomley, but all the time his eyes were wandering lazily over Harriet.
She tried to decorate a pudding for tomorrow, but found, in her nervousness, she was decorating far more of the table.
Kit picked up a handful of crystallized violets and scattered them higgledy-piggledy on the top of the mousse.
‘It’s got to look nice for Mrs Erskine,’ wailed Harriet.
‘No-one bothers about her,’ said Kit. ‘You should have the courage of your confections.’
‘How’s Cory?’ he asked Mrs Bottomley.
‘I’ve never known him as bad as this,’ said Mrs Bottomley disapprovingly. ‘I made that walnut cake this morning. You know it’s his favourite and he wouldn’t touch it. Like a bear with a sore head. Ever since he heard she was bringing that Ronald Acland. What’s he like? He looks a smart fellow.’
‘Ronnie Acland? Well, he calls himself an actor but, frankly, I wouldn’t have him on my side playing charades. But his father is dying, which means any moment dear Ronnie will become Lord Acland, and that’s what Noel finds attractive. She’s spent all her life waiting for Lord Right to come along.’
Harriet giggled. You couldn’t help liking Kit. Kit sensed weakness. ‘I say Botters. .’
‘Don’t call me that. It’s rude.’
‘Will you babysit so I can take Harriet out to dinner?’
Mrs Bottomley looked dubious. ‘She needs a break. Mr Cory’s been nagging her terrible but he won’t like you both swanning off the moment his back’s turned.’
‘He won’t know. I’ll get her back early. Please, darling Botters?’
‘Well, if I weren’t fumigating with Mr Cory, I wouldn’t do it.’
Kit took Harriet to a small dimly-lit club where they both talked and drank a great deal.
Kit shook his head. ‘So Noel’s really coming tomorrow. I suppose Botters told you Noel and I once had a walk-out.’
‘It sounded more like a stay-in to me,’ said Harriet.
Kit grinned. ‘So the kitten had claws, after all. The odd thing is that Cory’s never held it against me. “How can I blame you,” he said to me afterwards, “when I’m incapable of resisting her myself”.’
‘Oh poor Cory,’ said Harriet. ‘Why doesn’t he find someone else? He’s so attractive.’
‘He’s bewitched,’ said Kit. ‘He’s burnt himself out in the idiotic hope that one day, after a year, maybe five years, ten years, a lifetime, he’ll suddenly crack the rock, and conquer that shallow, dried-up heart.’
‘I hate her,’ Kit went on savagely, ‘for her damn narcissism, and yet when you first meet her she’s so dazzling, you can’t see anything else. It’s like looking straight into the sun. Anyway.’ He stretched his legs so one of them brushed against Harriet’s. ‘Enough of other people’s worries. What about yours? What made you keep the baby? Hung up on the father are you?’
‘Yes — I suppose I still am.’ She flaming well wasn’t going to tell him anything about Cory.
Kit took her hand. ‘I’m realistic about love. What’s the point of eating your heart out for someone who doesn’t love you? The answer is to find an adequate substitute.’
‘Yes?’ said Harriet, taking her hand away ‘And where do I find that?’
‘Right here, darling. What could be more adequate than me?’
Harriet looked at him. Yes, he was adequate all right. Everything about him, the deep, expensive voice, the sexy eyes, the mocking mouth, the thick blond hair, the broad, flat shoulders, the long muscular thighs, one of which was rubbing against hers again.
‘I think we’d better go home,’ said Harriet.
He stopped the car halfway up the drive and switched off the engine. Suddenly he reached forward and took hold of the ribbon tying back her hair.
‘Don’t touch me,’ she spat, springing away.
‘My, but you’re jumpy,’ he said, pulling off the ribbon, so her hair rippled down thickly over her shoulders.
‘That’s better,’ he said. ‘You must stop hiding the fact that you’re a very attractive girl.’
‘I don’t want to attract men,’ she said in a frozen voice.