Dorothy Eden (39 page)

“The thing that isn’t footling,” said Abby stubbornly, “is that you should have another woman’s lipstick in your desk. Why didn’t you leave it in the car and give it to Lola tonight?”

“Don’t ask me! I just automatically removed it. Perhaps I’m tidy-minded. Now can you keep quiet for ten minutes while I sign this mail. Then we can get away and so can Miss Atkinson. What are you doing in town anyway?”

But now Abby knew that she wasn’t going to show him Deirdre’s present or tell him where she had been. She hated herself for that. But some dreadful compulsion kept her silent. Together with Lola, Luke would have to look at the little figure on the swing and remember where it came from. And she would watch their faces…

A
MOVEMENT IN THE
mirror caught her eye. Abby turned sharply to see the pale, sly face at the window. Deirdre was watching again.

She wished she had drawn the curtains, but it was too late now. Resignedly she went over and opened the window. Deirdre, already in the blue party dress, grinned at her unashamedly.

“I just wanted to see what you were wearing.”

“Haven’t you been told it’s rude to look in other people’s windows?”

“I have something to tell you,” said Deirdre sulkily.

“Well, what is it?”

“Mummy’s been talking on the telephone to my father again.”

“Deirdre, how do you know it’s your father?”

“She calls him Reg. I don’t know. I just think he’s my father.” Deirdre turned away with studied nonchalance. “Anyway, he’s not coming to the party because she said, ‘Don’t you dare show up tonight.’ When she stopped talking Uncle Milton said, ‘I’m still not sure you can trust him,’ and Mummy said, ‘I am,’ and went away.”

“You mean she can’t trust Reg?”

“I don’t know. Either him or Luke.”

Abby leaned out into the chill evening air. “Deirdre, you’re telling lies again. How could she possibly mean Luke? What’s he got to do with this man called Reg?”

In the dim light Deirdre’s pale face had a look of unchildish amusement.

“Because Mummy said when she got to the door, ‘Anyway, I want him, so that’s that.’ And she’d just told Reg to stay away. So it must have been Luke. It’s always Luke she’s hanging around. She’s done it for months. She’s soppy about him.”

“Deirdre, don’t you dare say that again! It’s not true, and you’re no friend of mine if you talk like that. Besides, what a way to behave, looking in people’s windows, listening to telephone conversations, and then repeating them.”

Abruptly the child colored. Her mouth went into a straight, hard line. Then she flung out,

“If you hate me you don’t have to come to my party!” and turned and ran off, a ghostly shape in her pale blue dress in the dusk.

Abby bit her lip. She shouldn’t have been so sharp. The child was intolerable, but she was also a deeply sensitive and much too easily hurt person being perverted by her environment. With love and understanding one could find something worthwhile there.

With love and understanding…Whoever had enough of those two things?

Abby pulled the curtains slowly, wondering what had made her put on her rose-patterned silk dress which instinctively she knew Deirdre would like best of any in her wardrobe, and why she was going to such an odious child’s party. In the hall the telephone rang. Luke, who had been in the living-room finishing some work he had brought home from the office, answered it.

“Abby, it’s for you.”

“Who is it?” she asked, hearing her voice quite normal, in spite of the coolness between them.

“I don’t know. Some female.”

She went to pick up the receiver. She heard the voice, rather husky, saying, “Is that Mrs. Fearon?” She didn’t recognize it, although it sounded vaguely familiar.

“Yes, this is she.”

She was aware that Luke was standing behind her.

“You know that thing you were asking me about this afternoon? I’d go to Rose Bay, if I were you.”

Before she could say anything at all, the receiver clicked. Her caller had hung up.

“That was a short conversation,” said Luke. “Who was it?”

Why was he standing there watching and listening? Had he become one of the watchers, too? Please heaven, no! But again caution prevented Abby from telling him what had just happened, and that tomorrow she would go to the seaside suburb with the lovely name and make another search for that mysterious cosmetic company. For her caller must have been the woman in the George Street store where she had made enquiries.

“Darling, I don’t stand and listen in to your telephone conversations,” she said, with light reproof.

“You’re welcome to. Your friend hadn’t much to say. I’ve never known a woman of so few words.”

He was smiling. His eyes were cool and wary.

“Oh, it was just a shopgirl who was trying to get me something. She has told me where I can probably get it.”

“Get what?”

“The kind of girdle I like, if you must know,” said Abby exasperatedly. “You’d have thought it would be easy enough to get. Any decent shop in London would have it. But here, nobody knows anything!”

She was hiding her agitation by giving vent to her homesickness and prejudice against this strange, too bright, too brash city.

“All right, we’re a nation of morons,” said Luke. He seemed to have relaxed. “You’re looking very charming. Is this all for Deirdre?”

“That little monster!” Abby exclaimed.

Luke gave his hearty laugh.

“What, is she in this general hate, too? Am I, also? Are you still worrying about that ridiculous lipstick?”

“Luke, what
is
Lola to you?” Abby burst out. “I must know.”

His face went hard. She had known it would. But this was something that must be brought into the open.

“She’s a good friend, as are all her family. Nothing more.”

“I don’t believe you,” said Abby flatly. “I’ve tried to, but I can’t.”

“I’m sorry. I’m telling you the truth.”

“Perhaps it is the truth as far as you’re concerned, but it isn’t for Lola. She’s crazy about you. Even her own daughter can see that.”

He frowned angrily. “Good heavens, Abby, you’re not believing that child’s inventions! She’s the biggest little liar in Sydney.”

“Then who is Reg?” Abby countered.

“I haven’t the least idea.”

“Deirdre says he’s her father, and her mother is always ringing him up. If he is her father, why do we never see him? Why is he kept in the background? Especially, why is he kept out of your sight?”

Luke made an impatient movement.

“Really, darling, you talk of Deirdre always sticking her nose into someone else’s business. What about yours—charming as it is? You’ve already had me on one wild goose chase. So don’t let’s embark on another. Whoever this Reg is, he’s nothing to do with us. Any more than old Jock down there, or that other fellow you talked of, the ridiculous fish-faced man. Forget it, can’t you? You’re my wife, and Lola’s nothing but a friend. How can I prove that to you?”

“By not seeing her any more,” said Abby calmly.

“Oh, really, darling. One’s next door neighbors. We can’t be that uncivilized.” He didn’t care what he was doing to her, his voice was too brisk and impersonal, as if he were talking to some foolish, bird-brained woman in trouble. “And anyway I’ve promised to go on this kangaroo shoot this week-end. For Milton’s sake, poor devil. Surely you can understand that. How would you like to be condemned to a wheel chair?”

And be stuck helplessly and ignominiously in the toilet when a mischievous child wheeled your means of conveyance away…Abby had a moment of compunction.

“I’m sorry about that, but what can I do?”

“Only be reasonably friendly,” said Luke. “By the way, you won’t want to stay here alone for those two days. Will you have Miss Atkinson to stay? Or go up to Mrs. Moffatt? She’d be delighted to have you.”

Abby thought of the two alternatives and shuddered. She thought of the third, that would be to stay here alone, listening to every sound, thinking she heard footsteps prowling, waiting for the telephone to ring…

“I suppose I’ll have to come with you,” she said.

“I don’t think so. You’d hate it.” His denial was too quick. It hid alarm. Milton and Mary would be in their car, the special one that allowed room for Milton’s chair to be wheeled in and then left room only for the driver and, at a pinch, one more person. So Luke would take his car, and Lola. Of course Abby would be the odd one out. And yet, not five minutes ago, Luke had been protesting that Lola was merely a friend, a “civilized” friend.

Abby’s hurt was too heavy and forlorn for tears.

“I couldn’t bear to shoot a kangaroo or anything else. But I’d still like to come. I’ve never seen the outback.”

“It’s desolate and empty and eerie. Especially at this time of year. You wouldn’t like it at all.” Luke glanced at his watch. “Isn’t it time we were going if we’re to blow out candles, or whatever it is?”

“Luke, why have you changed so much?”

She saw his eyes flicker, caught a momentary naked look, a look almost of agony that surely she must have imagined. Then the mask was down again, and he was saying with an air of surprise,

“Changed? Have I? But you’d never seen me in my own surroundings, had you? This is how I am as an Australian. If you don’t like me, it’s bad luck, isn’t it?” He gave his young, charming smile that didn’t touch his eyes. For no reason at all she was hearing those words he had whispered on their wedding night. “Try to understand…”

But it was beyond her. She gave up.

Deirdre opened the square parcel, and shrieked with pleasure. She tipped the little figure with her finger, and as it swung back and forth she said delightedly,

“Isn’t it cute! Mummy, isn’t it cute! Look, if I push her hard enough she stands on her head.”

Surely enough, the toy figure, in a flurry of white petticoats, did stand on her head for one paralysed moment, then abruptly rocketed backwards to swing dizzily.

Again Abby felt as if she herself were swinging upside down. For no one was watching Deirdre displaying spontaneous pleasure for the first time. They were all looking at Abby, the giver of the present.

And they all knew. Somehow she was certain they did. Or else they had caught Lola’s and Luke’s tension. Even the little Christmas-tree figure of Mrs. Moffatt was still, her fingers no longer fiddling with her bedizened jewellery.

Then Lola said casually, “Didn’t we see that toy somewhere yesterday?” and if it hadn’t been for the paralysed moment of stillness that had caught them, just as it had caught the miniature girl on the swing, one wouldn’t have realized anything was wrong.

“Yes, at that place in Kings Cross,” Abby answered, just as calmly. “I liked it then, remember? I thought I’d go back and buy it for Deirdre when I knew it was her birthday.”

“And—everything was all right?” said Lola.

Abby made herself look at Luke. She had to know finally whose side he was on, hers, or this strange family’s, with their stranger secrets. But his face was expressionless, except for a darkened look in his eyes. It could have been caused by anger with her for breaking her promise. Or it could have been anxiety. At least, it wasn’t fear. He wouldn’t be afraid. Pride stirred in her, and she had to fight to remain as calm as Lola.

“Perfectly all right. At least, not altogether, because old Mr. Mitchell had died. It was rather a coincidence, wasn’t it? And the woman who was in his office now works for Miss Court, the dressmaker. In fact, I wondered for a minute if she were Miss Court.”

“Don’t be silly, Abby. She’d been with that toy outfit for years, obviously. It was lucky for her to step into another job so quickly. But she said she was expecting the old man to die, didn’t she?”

“Are we talking about an anonymous woman or this completely fascinating toy,” said Milton in his clipped, tense voice. “Does it matter where Abby found it? Obviously Deirdre likes it, and that’s quite an achievement for Abby.”

He smiled in the way he could, with deliberate charm, a charm that even though rarely used must have kept Mary in helpless subjection to him.

“It’s a different sort of thing,” Deirdre said, her face cupped in her hands as she stared at the little swinging figure. “It’s not useful. I hate useful presents.”

“Well, that’s a compliment to me!” said Lola. “I thought you quite liked your new dress last night.”

“And I gave you that pretty necklace,” said Mrs. Moffatt, tinkling and chinking. “You’d hardly call that useful, but you seemed disappointed with it.”

“Oh, beads!” said Deirdre.

“Deirdre, that’s rude to your grandmother,” said Lola crossly. “You loved your necklace. You know you did. You loved all your presents. Even if Abby’s is the most original. Fancy you going back to that place, Abby. I thought it gave you the jimjams.”

“Not that one,” said Abby. “It couldn’t be more ordinary, could it? It’s the Rose Bay Cosmetic Company that I’m still trying to find. And that seems to have disappeared into thin air.” (“Go to Rose Bay” the husky feminine voice on the telephone had said. So there was such a company. It had merely moved—very quickly.) But she couldn’t tell anybody this interesting fact, or else the company was likely to move again. And she had to find it. It was most urgent to do so. Because now her own husband was implicated.

“If it ever existed,” said Lola.

“We didn’t hear much about this,” Milton said, moving restlessly in his chair. “In fact, you’re all talking double Dutch as far as Mary and I are concerned. Why must you find this place, Abby?”

“Just to prove I didn’t imagine it,” said Abby. “It’s not much fun being threatened by strange men, but it’s even less fun thinking you’ve imagined the whole thing. I’d need to go to a psychiatrist, wouldn’t I?” She laughed easily, willing Luke to laugh with her. “It must be something Australia has done to me.”

“You haven’t seen Australia yet,” said Milton. “Only Sydney. You might as well go to the States and see nothing but New York. I think you’d better come with us on this trip we’re planning. At least you’ll see something of the country.”

Another stone had been dropped into this murky pool. Milton’s suggestion was obviously completely unexpected, and also unwelcome.