Semi-Detached Marriage (4 page)

'Well, I don't know why not. You're nearly
twenty- five; it's high time you had a baby. I'm sure Simon would love to have
children, and he'd make a very good father.'

'Whenever he happened to be home to see them,
you mean.' Cassie commented drily. Then, impatiently,

'I've told you dozens of times, Mother, we
don't want any children, we're perfectly happy as we are.'

'Oh, really!' Her mother banged a saucepan
down

oo angrily on to the draining-board. 'I don't
know what your generation think you're doing. Three children all married and
not one of you with any babies. What's the point of getting married at all if
you're not going to have any children?'

'Are you suggesting that you would prefer us to
be living in sin?' Cassie demanded tartly.

'Certainly not! You know full well what I
mean.' Seeing that she wasn't getting anywhere, the older woman changed
tactics. 'Your father isn't getting any younger, you know. He was saying only
today how much he'd love to have a grandchild before he gets too old.'

'Oh, Mother,' Cassie exclaimed exasperatedly,
'he's not even sixty yet. Anyone would think he'd got one foot in the grave, to
listen to you.'

'Well, he probably will have if he waits for
you. And anyway, he'll be retiring soon,' her mother added defensively. 'It
would be nice to have grandchildren we could take on outings.'

'Well, go and talk to your daughtersin-law,
then,' Lassie told her without sympathy, 'because I certainly don't intend to
saddle myself with children just to satisfy your grandmaternal instincts.'

'You know I can't talk to them about it. They
don't like it if I do.'

'No, and nor do I.' Cassie dropped the
teatowel on to the draining-board. 'We live in an entirely different world from
the one when you were a young wife. We can choose our own way of life and
whether or not to have a career. Motherhood isn't the be-all and end-all that
it was when you got married, Mother, and frankly, quite apart from the fact
that they would be an unwanted encumbrance, the whole idea of having children
bores me to tears!' Then Cassie turned on her heel and walked firmly out of the
kitchen, two bright patches of angry colour on her cheeks.

Everyone looked at her curiously as she
entered the sitting-room and she realised with some annoyance that they must
have heard the raised voices. No one said

anything, though, and the episode was glossed
over, although her mother rather pointedly ignored her for an hour or so
afterwards.

On the way home Simon asked her, 'What was
all that about?'

Cassie shrugged. 'Oh, the usual thing: when
are we going to start a family. Though why she always picks on me when the
others have been married longer, I don't know.'

'What did you tell her?'

'That we didn't want any children, of course,
ever. We agreed on that right at the start.'

'Did we? I don't remember incorporating it
into the marriage vows.'

The slightly sardonic note in his voice made
Cassie look at him sharply, but then she laughed. 'Simon, don't tease. You know
it was an accepted thing.'

He was silent for a moment, then said rather
absently, 'Yes, of course.'

He changed the subject then, and it seemed no
time at all before they got home, grabbed a few hours' sleep and Cassie was
rushing around to get ready for the trip to Paris. Simon dropped her off at the

Underground station and Cassie gave him a
swift kiss of farewell.

"Bye, darling. Must rush I'm sure I'm
going to be late,' Cassie said hurriedly as she hauled her case out of the car.

Simon laughed. 'Stop panicking, you've got
plenty of time.'

But Cassie was already shutting the car door.
'I'll call you tonight. 'Bye!'

But when she did finally get round to phoning
him late that evening her only reply was from the metallic sounding voice on
the answer-phone tape. She had spent an exciting, exhausting day booking into a
hotel, meeting her French contacts, and being introduced to the team of young
French designers, who had insisted on taking her out to dinner. Cassie spoke

French reasonably well, but it had been a
strain trying to follow and join in a conversation on style and design that had
turned into a prolonged debate with good-natured but voluble argument ranging
back and forth, and it had been late when they finally broke up and she had got
a taxi back to her hotel.

There was also a trip out to a fabrics
factory so that

Cassie could check on the quality of the
cloth that was to be used, and here again there was some hard bargaining, but
at last they managed to agree on figures for quantity and price that left
everyone happy, and Cassie also had the satisfaction of getting the designers
to sign an exclusive contract with Marriott & Brown's which also gave them
the first refusal on their next season's collection.

Somehow, during that second busy day, she
found the time to phone Simon's office and they told her that he had gone back
to Scotland, which she had already guessed was the most probable reason for his
absence.

They gave her a number to ring and she tried
it that evening, but she had such a terrible time trying to get through that in
the end she just gave it up as a bad job.

Now she looked down at the receiver in her
hand in some puzzlement, almost as if it could tell her why her husband didn't
answer. Her finely-arched brows drew together into a frown, then she shrugged
philosophically.

Well, there was nothing she could do about it
here and now anyway. Stifling a yawn, she left a message for him on the tape to
say that she had arrived safely, then got ready for bed. This kind of life was
very stimulating, of course, but it was also certainly very tiring.

The next two days were also extremely hectic
as Cassie attended the fashion show, taking notes of the garments she
particularly liked the look of, and got together with the designers and a
French manufacturer who was to produce cheaper versions of the clothes for
Marriott & Brown's. Quite a lot of haggling took place and, being in
France, most of it was done over a meal and a bottle of wine.

Thursday saw her back in London, but when she
took the lift up to the top floor of the Marriott & Brown building to her
office to make out her report on the Paris trip, she was immediately greeted by
the news that Don Ashby, the head buyer for the whole of the fashion
department, had broken a leg while skiing and wouldn't be able to return to
work for quite some time.

'We only heard yesterday,' her secretary told
her excitedly. 'It seems he went out on the ski slopes after a blizzard during
the night, but there was ice under the snow and he lost control. Fractured his
leg in two places, he did. Not just broke it, but fractured it,' the girl added
with morbid enjoyment. 'Oh, and Mr Jepps said I was to ask you to go to his
office as soon as you arrived.'
              

Cassie thanked her rather faintly and made
her way to the office of the Buying Manager, thinking that if her own plane had
crashed on the way back from Paris it would really have made her secretary's day!
She didn't have to wait long in the outer office before she was told to go in
to see Mr Jepps, who was the head of the Buying Department and also a director
of the firm. After exchanging greetings, she started to tell him about her trip
to Paris, but he stopped her almost at once.

'Tell me about that later. Have you heard
about poor

Ashby?'

'Yes, my secretary just told me. Is he really
that badly hurt, or has it gained in the telling?'

'That bad, I'm afraid. He's going to be out
of commission for at least six months. So I've decided to rearrange the buying
responsibilities for the fashion department. I'm putting Mrs. Nichols in
general charge and I want you to take over all her departments as well as your
own. Can you do that?'

He looked at her keenly, but for a moment
Cassie could only stare at him open-mouthed. Then she hastily pulled herself
together and said, 'Yes. Yes, I know I can. Thank you for-for giving me the
chance.'

He smiled. 'Well, you'd better cut along and
talk to Mrs. Nichols as soon as you can. You can tell me all about the Paris
trip some other time. Oh, and by the way,' he added as she moved towards the
door, 'there will, of course, he a raise in salary and expense allowance while
you have the extra responsibility.'

Simon arrived home again on Friday, going
first to the office to discuss the oil terminal problems with the directors. He
looked tired and there was a taut, strained look about his eyes when he came
into the flat, but Cassie was keyed up with excitement; she seemed to have been
on a high ever since she'd heard of her temporary promotion, and hadn't yet
come back down to earth. She was full of ideas that would give the various
departments now under her control a more modem image and was wild to tell Simon
about them and use him as a sounding board, but she held herself in check until
he'd changed and waited until they were seated at a table in their favourite
bistro type restaurant before she told him.

'Oh, don't bother with that, let's just have
the usual wine.' Impatiently she took the wine list he had been about to study
and gave it back to the waiter.

'I've got something to tell you.'

Simon smiled slightly and nodded to the
waiter. 'The Mosel, please.' Then he turned to her, the smile deepening. 'All
right, what is it? Something pretty good, from the look of you. Did the Paris
trip go well?' 'What? Oh, yes, fine.' Cassie dismissed Paris with a wave of her
hand. 'This is much more important news.

You know Don Ashby, the head fashion buyer?
Well, he's broken his leg.'

Simon's left eyebrow rose. 'That's supposed
to be good news?'

'Not for poor old Don, of course, but it is
for me.' She raised a glowing face to his. 'Mrs. Nichols has taken over Don's
work and…' she paused, her eyes bright with excitement, 'oh, Simon, I've been
put in charge of all Mrs. Nichols's departments! That's the designer rooms,
evening and day dresses, separates and swim- wear, as well as Top Togs.'

Simon stared at her for a long moment before
saying slowly, 'I see.'

'But do you?' Cassie
demanded, impatient at his apparent lack of interest, wanting him to share her
excitement. 'Can't you see it's my chance to really prove myself? Top Togs has
been a great success, but it was an entirely new innovation. The store had had
nothing like it before and so they've been unable to compare my work with
anything else. For all they know anyone could have done it. But now that I've
got all those departments that have been in the store from the beginning I'll
be able to show the directors how sales can be improved by a really modern
approach. Fashion wise those departments are still back in the Middle-Ages.'

She paused as the waiter brought their first
course and poured the wine, looking at Simon with a puzzled frown. He didn't
seem to be sharing her excitement at all, in fact he had a rather frowning look
in his dark eyes. Which was unusual for him, usually he was right in there,
encouraging her, listening to her problems, giving advice and help. But tonight
he seemed to have something on his mind and didn't even look pleased to hear
her news.

'Well,' she demanded as soon as the waiter
had gone,

'don't you think it's the most marvelous
chance? If I make a really big success of it I might even be allowed to keep
the departments, because Mrs. Nichols is due to retire in a couple of years.'

'And what does Mrs. Nichols do in the
meantime?' Simon asked drily.

Cassie shrugged irritably. 'Oh, I don't know.
They'll find her something, they always do. Well,' she demanded again, 'what do
you think?'

'It's a wonderful opportunity, of course.
But,' a rueful look came into his eyes, 'as a matter of fact I have some news
of my own. At the Directors' meeting I went to today it was decided to get rid
of the chap who's been in charge of the oil terminal up to now and put a new
man in his place. And the man would have to be at director level to have the
necessary authority to take over.' He picked up his glass and took a drink,
then set it down,. his eyes fixed on hers. 'And they've offered me the job with
a junior directorship.' 'A directorship?' Cassie's eyes lit up with surprise
and pleasure. 'Why, Simon, that's marvellous!' She went to go on, but Simon
stopped her. 'Is it?' 'Why, what do you mean?'

Deliberately he replied, 'To get the
directorship I have to take the job-and the job means that we'll have to leave
London at once and go to live in Scotland for at least three years!'

CHAPTER TWO

FOR a full minute Cassie could only stare at
him in dumbfounded amazement. Then, her voice sticking in her throat, she
stuttered, 'Scotland? For three years?

It's a joke, yes? Please tell me it's a
joke,' she added, watching him hopefully, but he didn't answer, just sat
looking at her with the same half rueful, half troubled expression. Slowly she
sat back with a sigh and put down her fork. 'You're not joking.'