Kitabı oku: «Marriage In Mind», sayfa 2

CHAPTER TWO

ASTRA’S anger against Sayre Baxendale was still on the boil when she reached her office. Oh, how she was going to enjoy sending him the sweetest of business letters telling him how she had re-checked on what was suited to Mr Cummings’s circumstances at the time of their negotiations, but she could only confirm that her advice to her client had been first-class. If Mr Baxendale would care to check himself, or perhaps get his finance people to do so—she liked that line; it suggested, politely of course, that Baxendale was brain-dead in the figure department—they would see that Mr Cummings could not have been better advised. So put that in your trumpet and blow it!

She realised she would have to itemise certain details of Ronald Cummings’s current finances, and to include such confidential matter went against all her instincts. But, since the man’s daughter had obviously already fully discussed her father’s financial standing with Sayre Baxendale and his finance department, she didn’t think it could be termed as breaking client confidentiality.

Nothing if not thorough, Astra found the Ronald Cummings file on her computer, did a cursory scan and then printed out everything she had. That done, she surrounded herself with facts, figures and details of any scheme that might be even vaguely relevant to her client’s circumstances. She then went back to her very first note in her dealings with him. From there, methodically, she carefully worked her way through page by page, note by note.

It had not been one of her easiest of negotiations. The man had dithered, changed his mind a number of times. She had a note to say she had suggested to him that perhaps he might like to leave it for a short time while he thought over the several options she had suggested.

She also had a note to say no, he was adamant, he would be fifty-one in November, he thought he’d better get something arranged now. She had, in fact, she saw, many notes about what had taken place between her and her client.

Her first shock in making her in-depth scrutiny of what had taken place, however, was to find that, while she was absolutely positive she must have told Ronald Cummings that if he continued on the plan he had chosen his property might be at risk, she hadn’t made a note of it. Nowhere could she find in the many letters she had written to him any note of that most important warning.

Astra’s second shock came when she started fitting Ronald Cummings’s details to all of the plans available at that time. Though, initially, it had seemed that nothing fitted his circumstances, in actual fact there was something that did. It was then, with thundering disbelief, she realised that, yes, there was a much better package she could have put to him! A package that would have been much more beneficial to him.

It was a staggering shock, and at first Astra just couldn’t believe she had overlooked the much better plan. But—she had!

Because she just couldn’t believe it—she was usually so methodical, so on top of her job—she double-and triple-checked out every fine detail. But, galling though it was, Sayre Baxendale had been right! In the light of this other plan, her client had been very badly advised! How could she have made such a dreadful mistake? Normally she was so clear-headed.

Astra thought back to the time when her negotiations with Ronald Cummings had started to take shape. And then she realised how her normal diligence with regard to her work must have slipped. It had been around that time that her much loved cousin Yancie had been involved in a car accident. Yancie hadn’t been seriously hurt, but neither Astra nor Astra’s equally much loved cousin Fennia had known that when they’d dropped everything and in a terrified panic had raced to the hospital.

They had barely recovered from that fright when Yancie had announced that she was getting married and, because neither she nor Thomson had wanted to wait very long, her two intended bridesmaids had to drop everything and help her out! What with having to take time off for rushed dress fittings and everything else, Astra now realised that for the first time ever she hadn’t given full attention to her job.

It was no good blaming it on the excitement of Yancie getting married, or, Astra realised, to make the excuse that surely she was entitled to a little time off. There was no excuse. Nor could she use the excuse that Ronald Cummings had changed his mind so many times, there was every probability that she had put forward the better proposal but that he had rejected it—she didn’t have a note of it. And anyhow having clients who were unsure what they really wanted was all part and parcel of the job. It was her job to help, to advise—and she had fallen down very, very badly.

Astra took a deep breath, and, the facts staring her in the face, she accepted what she had to do. She picked up the phone and rang Norman Davis’s extension. ‘Is it convenient to see you straight away?’ she enquired.

‘Rather!’ he answered jovially—and to Astra it seemed as if her boss had been sitting there just waiting for her to get in touch to tell him how her meeting with Sayre Baxendale had gone.

Armed with a sheaf of papers, Astra left her desk knowing that she was going to have to own up to negligence. There were thousands of pounds at stake here—it was up to her to put it right.

Norman Davis was on his feet when she went into his office, a beaming smile on his face. He was not smiling ten minutes later.

There was a lot he could have said, but, although he seemed as shaken as she felt when Astra had told him everything, all he did say—and she silently thanked him for it—was, as she had supposed, ‘Leave everything with me, Astra—I’ll double check it all myself. But if there has definitely been a mistake it will have to be put right. Perhaps you’ll come and see me in the morning.’

She left him and went straight home. That evening, knowing she had no alternative, Astra wrote out her resignation. She did not sleep well but even when she had so much else to think about one tall, black-haired, dark-eyed man whom she had met that day—and oh, she so earnestly wished she hadn’t—seemed to return to her mind again and again. Oh, clear off, she fumed, punching her pillow; but for him and his interference, she might have got a decent night’s sleep. Well, one thing was for sure—she was glad she was never going to have to see Sayre Baxendale again!

Astra still felt very much shaken by what had happened when she presented herself at Norman Davis’s office in the morning. He was not a happy being, she could tell; she knew the feeling. Clearly his checks had shown the same results as hers—she had fallen down extremely badly on the job.

Before she handed him her resignation, however, Astra informed him that she personally would make financial reparation to their client—only for her offer to be refused. ‘Yarroll Finance will take care of that,’ Norman Davis insisted, letting her know, if she didn’t already, how worthy the company was of its highly esteemed reputation. She had sold the plan in the company’s name; the company would, therefore, take care of compensation.

There seemed nothing else to do but to hand him her resignation. Norman Davis didn’t look any happier but, as she had seen no alternative but to resign, she knew he had no alternative but to accept her resignation.

‘I can’t tell you how sorry I am.’ He took the words she had been going to say out of her mouth. ‘Your work until now has been exemplary. You were tipped for much higher things.’

‘I’m sorry I let you down,’ Astra answered quietly, this, the whole nightmare of it, a bitter pill to swallow. They shook hands and he walked to the door with her. ‘Will you write to Mr Baxendale?’ she felt honour-bound to ask—she didn’t want to have to do it, yet, for the sake of the company, it couldn’t be ignored.

‘I’ll clear up the Cummings end first, then drop him a line thanking him for his interest and letting him know the matter has been settled to Mr Cummings’s satisfaction,’ he answered, and warmed her down-on-the-floor feeling by giving her arm an affectionate fatherly squeeze before letting her go.

Norman Davis had let her off working out her notice, so Astra went home and tried to put it all behind her. It was not that easy. Apart from the humiliation of having to resign, she was used to hard work, enjoyed hard work, and without it she felt bereft. She couldn’t settle to do anything. To pick up a book and try to bury herself in its pages was beyond her.

She thought of phoning Yancie, but her cousin would be upset for her and, given that it looked as if Yancie was going to be visited by a coven of mothers, Astra didn’t want her newly-returned-from-honeymoon cousin to be upset on her behalf. Her other close confidante, Fennia, was still on her honeymoon.

When Astra’s inner disquiet got too much for her, she telephoned her father in Barbados. ‘How’s my best dad?’ she asked him brightly.

‘Wanting to see his best daughter,’ he answered his only child. ‘When are you coming to see me? You can’t work all the time, you know, sweetheart.’

‘As a matter of fact…’

Her phone call to her father lasted about twenty minutes. As a parent he wanted to slay all her dragons. As a former businessman of high integrity, he appreciated that Yarroll Finance had taken the only course they could: to indemnify their client, and to accept her resignation.

Astra went to bed that night trying to pin her thoughts on something other than the ghastly happenings since she had yesterday walked into Sayre Baxendale’s office, introduced herself and held out her hand.

She now knew why he had refused to shake hands with her—oh, didn’t she just! He’d made no bones about stating he thought she was more interested in her fat commission and it was hard luck for any poor sucker of a client who came into her orbit. Sayre Baxendale…

Oh, get out of my head, do, Baxendale. Now, should she go and stay with her father for a while—if he had his way she would go and live with him—or should she look around for another job?

She felt very pulled towards going to visit her father, but felt too restless to lounge around in Barbados doing nothing. Yet she shied away from the idea of looking for another job—should indeed any firm in the same line of business want to employ her after this!

Fortunately she was in a position where she didn’t have to work. But the loss of the job she had loved and had strived so tirelessly to be perfect at was too new for her to be able to contemplate working in any other field, just yet.

Her feeling of being bereft was still with her the next morning. It seemed odd not to have to go along to the study and make a few business phone calls. She decided to pay her mother’s half-sister a visit.

‘Well, look who’s here!’ her aunt Delia exclaimed delightedly.

‘You’re not going out? I should have phoned.’

‘No, you shouldn’t. You know I’m always pleased to see you. You’re usually much too busy in that career of…’ She broke off. ‘Something’s happened, hasn’t it?’

‘You always did know the three of us better than most.’

‘I’ve always been glad the three of you have felt able to come to me when something has troubled you,’ she answered.

Shrewd, lovely aunt. Astra realised her aunt had seen beneath her smile and light-heartedness, had seen that something was troubling her. ‘I’ve resigned from my job,’ Astra owned.

‘Oh, my dear! You love—loved—that job so much! What on earth happened to make you do such a thing?’

It was not very pleasant to have to confess to her nearest and dearest that she hadn’t had the luxury of an option but to resign. But, simply because her aunt Delia was so near and dear to her, to evade or lie to her was out of the question. So she gave her aunt a brief outline of what had happened.

‘You’re every inch your father,’ her aunt replied after a moment. Astra had been guarding for years against any sign that she might be like her mother, so was very much cheered by her aunt’s opinion. But, ignoring that Astra hadn’t had much choice but to resign, Delia Alford was going on, ‘Your mother would never in this world have acted so honourably. Though, come to think of it,’ she smiled, ‘it would never have occurred to her to get herself a job in the first place.’

Astra felt much better for her visit to her aunt Delia, but as the weekend came and went time started to hang very heavily on her hands.

Her cousin Yancie phoned her on Tuesday with the dreaded news that the two mothers-in-law were coming to stay. ‘You wouldn’t care to pull the plug on that computer and come to dinner on Saturday, would you?’

Confession time. ‘Er—there’s no computer plug to pull,’ Astra answered lightly. And, in the same light vein, she explained that she no longer had a job.

‘I’m on my way!’ Yancie said at once.

‘No, you’re not.’

‘You lived and breathed that job—something must have happened. I’ll come over.’

‘There’s no need.’

‘You’re upset.’

‘I’ll be more upset if you take time out from whatever it is you’re doing to come and hold my hand. Besides, I’ll be seeing you on Saturday evening,’ Astra replied.

‘I’ll…’ Yancie broke off. ‘You’ll come on Saturday and help take the pressure off?’ she exclaimed.

‘Would I let you down?’

They chatted on for ages, but Astra was remembering she had said, ‘Would I let you down?’ to Yancie when the very next day her half cousin, Greville, rang.

‘I’ve just been paying a visit to my mother,’ he opened.

Ah! ‘Aunt Delia told you?’

‘If you’re looking for a career in finance, I’m sure Addison Kirk would love to have you on their payroll,’ Greville, a director of that firm, answered.

‘The last time you got one of your cousins a job, she ended up marrying the boss!’ Astra joked, never more happy for Yancie, but marriage was not a road she wanted to tread.

‘Still a fate worse than death?’ Greville enquired.

‘That makes two of us,’ she answered lightly. Greville, tall, good-looking, his fortieth birthday imminent, had been married once some years ago, but the marriage had ended in divorce, leaving her half cousin so badly scarred that he, like Astra, avoided entanglements like the plague.

Or so she had thought, and owned she was quite surprised when he seemed to hesitate, and then said, ‘Er…’

Astra knew him. She loved him. And suddenly she was remembering a remark her cousin Fennia had made shortly before her marriage to Jegar Urquart. It was something to the effect that Fennia thought that Greville was over his marriage break-up and all the pain that had gone with it.

‘What gives, Greville Alford?’ Astra probed gently.

‘You always were smart,’ he answered—and Astra waited. ‘Well, since you’re no longer working all hours…’ He broke off—and only then, what with Yancie suggesting she worked all hours, and Greville openly saying so, did Astra realise just how glued to the grindstone she had truly been. ‘The truth is, Astra, love,’ he went on, ‘your big cousin needs your support.’

‘You’ve got it!’ Astra told him unconditionally. Greville had always been more of a big brother to her than a cousin. She loved him dearly; all three cousins did.

‘The thing is, Astra—um—I’m in something of an emotional turmoil.’

His confession jolted her. ‘You?’ she questioned.

‘I know. Who’d have thought it?’

‘You’re—er—you’ve fallen for someone? I’m sorry,’ she apologised instantly. ‘I didn’t mean to pry.’ And, the practical side of her waking up, she rose over her shock that it looked as if her confirmed, ‘never again’ half cousin had fallen for someone and was ‘all over the place’ emotionally about it. ‘How can I help?’ she asked, ready, willing, eager to help him if she could. ‘What do you want me to do?’

‘Nothing too terrible,’ he replied, and explained, ‘I’ve been invited to this party and I happen to know that the someone I’m particularly—um—interested in will be there. And, daft though it may seem for a man of my age, I’m scared stiff I’ll frighten her off if I act too eager.’

‘You want me to come with you in order to keep you in check?’ Astra queried, only just managing to hide her surprise—her cousin had got it badly!

‘More to see that I don’t make too much of a fool of myself,’ he admitted, and Astra wanted to give him a hug.

He had asked for her support—she gave it unreservedly. ‘I’d love to come to a party with you,’ she answered cheerfully.

‘Wonderful!’ he cried, and sounded so like a young, enthusiastic boy that Astra had to smile. Her smile rapidly faded, though, when he went on, ‘We don’t want to get there too early—it’ll go on all hours anyway. I’ll pick you up at—say, eight-thirty—nineish, on Saturday.’

‘This Saturday?’ Astra queried, playing for time, her thoughts rapid. Yancie was relying on her to help keep the peace between a brace of warring mothers. Astra recalled her reply to Yancie: ‘Would I let you down?’. And truly she couldn’t let her down. But Greville had never let any of them down ever, and here was her chance to do something for him.

‘Is this Saturday a problem, Astra?’ Already Greville was starting to sound a touch disappointed.

‘Nothing we can’t solve between us,’ Astra answered brightly, going hurriedly on, ‘I’ve already arranged to have dinner on Saturday—with a friend. You said this party will go on all hours. Can you cope if I don’t actually come with you, but come on later?’

Clearly this party on Saturday was important to her half cousin. ‘Say where you’ll be and I’ll come and pick you up,’ he at once volunteered, so eager, it seemed, to have her there to support him that there was no way he wanted to withdraw his invitation.

But Astra knew in advance that if she told Yancie that Greville was calling for her, and so much as hinted at the emotional turmoil he was in, Yancie would want to do all she could to help Greville too, and would tell her to forget about dining with them. And knowing what a barbed tongue Aunt Ursula, Yancie’s mother, had when the mood was on her, Astra felt she must support Yancie too.

‘That would make it too complicated with cars,’ Astra smiled. ‘I’ll be driving myself to meet my friend,’ she added, and knew Greville had seen the sense of this when he told her the name of the party givers, and their address.

‘I’ll leave arriving as late as I can myself,’ Greville decided. ‘But if you can get there as soon as you can,’ he added, and rang off, and Astra started to realise just how seriously his emotions had been put in turmoil.

He was nervous, and jittery, and all too plainly all at sixes and sevens over this new woman in his life. And that could only mean that he had no idea how the lady felt about him. Otherwise, why would he need his half cousin along to support him? Poor darling Greville; never had she known him be anything but supremely confident. But he shouldn’t worry. To know Greville was to love him.

Saturday dragged around very slowly. She had thought a deal about Greville and also about Yancie and how she deserved her happiness. And then Astra thought of Sayre Baxendale—and found it extremely annoying that he should pop into her thoughts so constantly. The reason for that, though, was plain enough. It was because of him, and his interference, that she’d had to give up her job.

To be painfully honest, she admitted, the fault was hers. And, having inherited her father’s integrity, Astra felt relieved on the one hand that her oversight had come to light and that things had been put right for Mr Cummings. But that still didn’t make her feel any the warmer towards Baxendale. Had Mr Cummings or his daughter contacted her, and requested her to check the investment deal, then Astra knew she would have checked her work just as thoroughly—and would have just the same brought her mistake to Norman Davis’s attention. So there had been no need for Baxendale to poke his nose in. And anyway, she’d have thought he had better things to do. She was doubly glad she’d never have to see him again.

Dinner at Yancie and Thomson’s home went much better than Astra had expected. The two mothers had little to say to each other, which perhaps was just as well because Astra had been brought up knowing the cutting edge of her aunt Ursula’s tongue, and Thomson’s mother didn’t look as if she would take any prisoners. But it warmed Astra’s heart to see the way Thomson’s eyes followed Yancie when she crossed the room, the way his mouth curved when he heard her laugh. Purely and simply, he delighted in her.

At around ten-thirty Mrs Wakefield senior made noises about going to bed, and Astra said she must be off. ‘Can’t we persuade you to stay a little while longer?’ Thomson enquired charmingly.

But he accepted pleasantly when she said she’d had a lovely evening, but really felt she must go. She made her goodbyes, and both Thomson and Yancie came out to her car with her.

‘You’re all right, Astra? You’re not fretting about…’

‘Of course I’m all right,’ Astra laughed, and added, immediately on her cousin’s wavelength, ‘I’m having a wonderful rest while I decide what I’d like to do.’

‘I’m sure you won’t need my help,’ Thomson inserted, ‘but you’d be an asset to my company if you’re interested in career advancement with Addison Kirk,’ its chairman offered.

Yancie beamed, and Astra felt touched and, her cool and aloof image having no place in family, she kissed them both. She drove off, catching sight of them in her rear-view mirror, arms around each other, strolling back to the house. She drove to the party in the most contented frame of mind she had been in all week. It was not to last.

Astra found the house she was looking for without any trouble, and parked the Porsche in about the only place available. The house was large, the cars in the drive many. It was, she guessed, a big party. And well under way.

She rang the doorbell. A good-looking man opened the door. He was not her host, however, but someone merely passing when the bell had sounded.

He seemed much cheered to see her. ‘I was thinking of going home, but things are looking up,’ he leered. Spare me! Astra gave him a look that should have told him ‘Don’t let me stop you’ but he was not to be put off. ‘Leigh Jenkins,’ he introduced himself, his eyes making a meal of her trim shape in her black velvet trousers and black lace top.

‘Hello,’ she answered coolly, and walked past him to where, through wide open double doors, she could see the party was in full swing.

She stood just inside the entrance of the crowded room. But before she could do more than look to her left Greville was there. ‘I’ve been keeping an eye open for you,’ he beamed, and as always gave her a hug and a kiss.

Astra was still in his cousinly arms, in fact, when she had a strange sensation that someone was watching her. She looked to the right—and just couldn’t believe it! She was being watched! And her heart seemed to turn over. So much for thinking she would never see Baxendale again! There he was, tall, sardonic, those dark eyes inscrutable, looking unblinking at her.

She tilted her chin—and looked through him. He was close enough for her to see that he didn’t care very much for that. Good! She couldn’t have been more pleased, and pulled out of her cousin’s hug to smile up at him and ask, ‘How’s it going?’

He bent to whisper in her ear, ‘She’s here; I’ll introduce you.’

Over the next hour Greville introduced her to many people, though since he was being careful nothing should betray his most private of emotions at the end of that hour Astra had not the smallest notion as to which of the affable women he had introduced her to was the one.

Thankfully, he either did not know Sayre Baxendale or that man was not in the vicinity. But Greville did not get around to introducing Baxendale, anyhow. Though while she would have welcomed refusing to shake his hand had she had the chance she had no wish to embarrass her cousin. Greville and the family knew some of the details of the mistake she had made that had caused her to resign, but for reasons of confidentiality she had not mentioned any names.

Greville had no idea that she would rather spit in Sayre Baxendale’s eye than say ‘How d’you do’ nicely to him. Though that probably went for Baxendale, as well. He’d probably cut her dead regardless of embarrassing anyone, should Greville attempt any such introduction. She was definitely persona non grata.

That thought made her angry. Not that she wanted the scurvy knave to speak to her. But her mistake had been a genuine one, and once she had known of it she had swiftly taken steps to put it right. So why was she getting upset that Baxendale thought her more interested in her commission than in her client?

Ridiculous—she wasn’t upset, though she had to own that the party had started to pall. ‘Um, do you want me to stay to the end?’ she asked Greville.

‘Had enough?’

She felt mean. She was here to support Greville. What she wanted didn’t come into it. ‘Not at all,’ she smiled.

‘I’ll come too. We’ll just say goodbye to our hosts,’ he decided.

‘No, Greville!’ she protested. ‘We’ll stay and…’

‘We’ll go—and you’ve been a real pal.’

‘I’m dying to know which one?’ she stretched up to whisper in his ear.

He laughed delightedly. ‘You couldn’t tell? Didn’t see? Couldn’t guess?’

‘Not by word or look,’ she confirmed.

‘Whew! That’s a relief!’ Their heads were bent in close conversation. ‘I feel so—all melty inside whenever I look at her. I felt sure it would show.’

‘You must have learned to keep your expression deadpan in the boardroom.’ Astra might have added more, only just then she happened to glance across the room—and caught Sayre Baxendale’s dark-eyed, hostile gaze head-on.

Words died on her lips, but even as she adopted a cool pose and looked elsewhere she seemed powerless to be aware of anything but him. And then Greville was saying firmly, ‘Come on, sweetheart, let’s find our hosts.’

By the time they had thanked their hosts and said a few goodbyes they were leaving the room, and Astra was relegating to the bin any fanciful notion that Baxendale had a shred of power to make her aware of nothing but him.