Authors: Margaret Tanner
“Close the door on the way out.” Bryce raised his head. “I don’t want to be interrupted on any account.” She got the feeling he was deliberately trying to get her flustered.
Shereen, giggling like a schoolgirl, locked her arms around his neck and kissed him again.
With her notebook clutched in a trembling hand, she staggered to her typewriter and frantically transcribed her notes. Anything to keep herself from falling into a screaming heap on the floor. She had finished several letters before Bryce called her back into his office.
Shereen must have departed by another door, the one which led from Bryce’s office into the corridor, although that particular door was rarely used. Had he made love to Shereen? Her heart flipped over and her stomach muscles knotted until she felt almost physically ill.
“Ready?” The faintest suggestion of a smile hovered on his lips.
She nodded, beyond speaking. She opened her book and he started dictating again. Pausing for a moment, he lit a cigarette and lounged back in his chair, letting the smoke drift from his nostrils.
“Did we shock you, little Miss Prim?” he asked, giving a naughty schoolboy grin.
She turned a surprised gasp into a cough. What was he playing at now?
“Come on Caroline, you were shocked, weren’t you?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” she stammered.
“I think you do.” He burst out laughing. “I have a luncheon date, so I won’t be back until two o’clock.”
“Yes, Mr. Harrington. Is that all?”
“Yes. Aren’t you interested in knowing who my lunch date is?” he asked with a mocking glint in his eye.
“Not particularly.” With a superhuman effort she forced her voice to sound careless. I should be nominated for an Oscar. Outwardly calm, inwardly seething, she dared not let her turmoil show.
His lips compressed, and she realized her indifference annoyed him. Good. She was a better actor than she thought.
When she had finished typing up all the letters, she placed them in Bryce’s inbox. He had taken himself off to his luncheon date, giving her a little more time to get her emotions under control.
She left the office at lunchtime, too, not for a romantic tête-à-tête at some intimate little restaurant, but to buy a suitable dress because Andy was taking her out to dinner. He was due home on leave tomorrow morning. He was in his final year at the army officers’ academy and in a few weeks would graduate as a captain. Would he be sent to Vietnam? Please, God, don’t let him be sent over there. It wouldn’t be fair. The family had already sacrificed enough. Two generations of Dennison men had been used as cannon fodder in the world wars. She and Andy were the only members of their family left now.
She jumped on a central city bound bus. Some of the arcades running off the main streets would have what she wanted. Andy was taking her to an exclusive restaurant. She knew this because on several occasions she had to book a table for Bryce. For her birthday on Wednesday, Andy wanted to take her somewhere special this weekend instead of buying a present.
He was two years older than her, but no brother and sister could have been closer, even though their jealous mother had tried to drive a wedge between them. He was her only living relative now. Their father had been killed in the last days of the Second World War.
Their mother had died about three years ago. While she lived, things were relatively easy for them financially, as the government provided her with a war widow’s pension and allowances for their education. On her death the government money stopped, and by the time the estate had been settled there was nothing left.
Andy had volunteered to throw in his studies, but she couldn’t let him do it. His heart was set on following in their father’s footsteps and becoming an army officer. After much arguing, she had finally persuaded him to stay in school until he got his commission.
Many of his army mates received allowances from their families as well as their government payment. He didn’t, but somehow managed to survive on his army pay. She smiled when she remembered him saying, “I don’t take girls out, so that saves me heaps.”
After flicking through several racks of clothes she found an ice-blue dress with a pleated skirt, the pure silk yolk was embossed with gold. It was frightfully expensive, but a justifiable extravagance because she wanted Andy to be proud of her, and she didn’t need to spend money on accessories because she had shoes and a matching bag at home. With her dress box in her hand, she hurried outside to catch a bus back to work.
The mad race to her office had her breath coming out in labored pants. The phone rang and she dashed towards it. “Mr. Harrington’s secretary. May I help you?”
“Good afternoon, Alexander Harrington here. Put me through to my son, please?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Harrington, but he won’t be back from lunch until about two. May I take a message, or ask him to ring back?”
“Yes, my dear, get him to call me as soon as he comes back, er, it’s Miss Dennison, isn’t it?”
“Yes, I’m Caroline Dennison.”
“I thought so. My wife liked the black opal you helped my son choose.”
She almost said your son didn’t help; I went shopping on my own, but restrained herself. “I’m glad. I thought it was beautiful.” So it ought to be, considering the price, sinful spending so much money on a piece of jewelry. “Is there anything I can help you with, Mr. Harrington?”
“No thank you, this is a family matter. Get him to call me the moment he arrives back. Goodbye.” The phone went dead.
Harrington Senior seemed a nice man, never anything but polite. A pity his son didn’t take after him. She hurried to the kitchen, made a cup of coffee and took it back to her office. I’ll have to stop this rushing around all the time otherwise I’ll end up having a nervous breakdown.
She made several telephones calls, chasing up a consignment of missing timber they needed for a new housing estate. How several loads of timber could get lost was a mystery. Someone stole it most likely.
At three o’clock Bryce strolled into her office. Why he always came through here instead of using his own private entrance she could never fathom. Wanted to catch her slacking on the job, maybe?
“Any calls for me?”
“Yes, your father rang. He wants you to call him straight away. Other than that, there wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle.”
He scowled. “What on earth does he want? Couldn’t you help him?”
“I offered to, but he said it was a family matter.”
“All right, thanks.”
“I’ve finished your typing. Is there anything else you’d like me to do?”
“I have to give a speech at a business dinner on Monday night. I’d like you to type it up for me.”
He strode into his office and returned with a sheaf of papers. “Do it in double spacing, will you? A rough draft will be fine, thanks.” He turned on his heel and went back to his office.
Caroline glanced at the notes. He always used black ink and wrote atrociously. How on earth would she be able to decipher any of it?
She started typing on a plain piece of foolscap paper, stopping every now and again to study what he wrote. On the second page of the speech an alteration had several extra words squeezed in. No matter how hard she tried, even using a magnifying glass, she couldn’t decipher it, so she’d have to go and ask him to clarify it.
She crossed the carpeted floor of her office and knocked on his door.
“Come in.” As she pushed open the door and walked in she heard Bryce snarl. “I’m not taking her to the dinner. I don’t give a damn whose daughter she is. I already have a date.”
He stopped speaking, but scowled. The person on the other end of the phone didn’t seem to be saying what he wanted to hear.
“I’m telling you, I’ve already asked someone to accompany me,” he ground the words out. “And no, she’s not some empty-headed actress.” His anger bounced off the walls of his office. He gripped the phone, obviously trying to keep his temper in check but failing miserably.
“Who?” He shot her a ferocious look. “Caroline,” he snapped. “Yes, my secretary. I might need her to take some notes. I’m busy. I’ll see you Monday night.” He slammed the phone down.
“My father,” he growled. “If you’re doing anything on Monday night, please cancel it. You’re accompanying me to a business dinner.”
“I am?”
“That’s what I said, isn’t it? I’d rather put up with you than some bimbo my mother has lined up for me.”
“I could have another engagement on Monday night.” She wouldn’t have cared if royalty were visiting. She’d have put them off to go out with Bryce, but pride stopped her from saying so.
“You’ll have to cancel it. I’ll call for you about seven. Have you got something suitable to wear? You’ll need an after-five frock.”
Before Caroline could frame an answer, he continued. “Give me the sundry accounts checkbook. I’ll write you out a check so you can go buy yourself something decent.”
“You don’t have to pay for my clothes.” How humiliating. Did he think she was trailer-park trash who didn’t know how to dress properly?
“I’m not buying your clothes.” His lip curled with derision. “The company is. We’ll claim it as a tax deduction.”
Dumbstruck, she meekly handed over the checkbook and he wrote out a check. She couldn’t believe her eyes. Surely he couldn’t mean it—four hundred dollars?
“It’s too much. I don’t need to pay that much for a dress.” She felt so embarrassed her face was probably as red as a beetroot.
Momentarily his eyes registered surprise, then his lips compressed. “If I’m escorting you anywhere, you’ll need at least that much. I won’t be seen with a woman who isn’t elegant.” His voice had an edge to it. “What did you come in to see me for? Not my scintillating company, I’m sure.”
“Oh.” She had forgotten about his speech. “I couldn’t decipher your writing.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my writing.”
Who was he trying to kid? She pointed out the words she couldn’t understand.
“Let’s see.” His sudden grin chased away the somber shadows marring his handsome face. “I can’t read it myself. Oh, well.” He gave a careless shrug. “We’ll change it.” He proceeded to do so. “There, when you’ve finished typing that out, you can leave early and shop around for a dress.”
“Mr. Harrington, I don’t need the money. I bought an after-five frock at lunch time because I’m going out to dinner at Marianne’s tomorrow. I’m sure it would be suitable for Monday’s dinner.”
“Well, well, fancy that, a woman who isn’t trying to squeeze as much money as she can out of a man.”
“Not every female is trying to see how much she can gouge out of a man.”
He gave a cynical laugh. “All the women I know check a man’s bank balance before going out with him. You’re a rarity, little Miss Prim, and I still want you to buy a dress. Call it an early Christmas present. You’ve earned it. I’m the first to admit I’m not an easy man to work for.”
“Thank you.” Caroline accepted the check and returned to her desk. When she had finished typing out the speech, she took it in to him. “Is there anything else that needs doing?”
“No thanks. You might as well go now. By the way, what number is your apartment?”
“Three.”
“Good. See you around seven.”
At four o’clock she gathered together her dress box and bag. Standing in the elevator, she debated about what type of dress to buy. If she got something sophisticated, he might see her as a woman. What foolishness, thinking he’d notice her. That wouldn’t happen, regardless of what she wore. It was pitiful, this yearning she felt for him, this obsession to be more than a mere secretary.
She wanted to be the woman he loved, the mother of his children. Stop torturing yourself? You can’t even attract and hold an ordinary man, let alone one as extraordinary as this.
It seemed ridiculous to be buying another dress. She alighted from the bus in the city center and wandered around until she found a small boutique specializing in after-five wear. She approached the saleslady. “Could you help me select an after-five frock? I’m going to an important function with my boss, and I haven’t a clue what to wear.”
“There’s a markdown rack over there,” the woman said helpfully. “Anything on it would be suitable.”
“Thanks. I’ve got a check here from my boss.” Caroline pulled it out of her bag.
“No problem at all. We’d be happy to accept it.”
Browsing through a rack of markdowns, she found an apricot silk jersey dress, fitted at the bust, with shoestring straps that left her shoulders bare. The skirt fell into soft swirls at knee level. A wispy see-through bolero top completed the outfit.
The price took her breath away. Even though it had been marked down there wasn’t much change left from four hundred dollars. Thank goodness she didn’t need to buy new shoes or a bag. With the two boxes clutched in her hand, she strolled to the bus stop.
On arrival home, she hung the dresses up. Wait until Kerry saw them, she would be green with envy! Every Friday Kerry brought home hot fish and chips. It was a late shopping night and the department stores stayed open until nine o’clock. Trevor often worked late, so the girls caught up on their housework instead of spoiling their weekend by having to do it.