The Daughter of Night (9 page)

'No-o,' she gazed at the tablecloth moodily, 'I thought I'd go away for a bit, sort things out—see if it's like the book says—"bigger than both of us". I know—ring Crispin's, but don't worry if they can't get hold of me straight away, in fact, unless it's an emergency don't bother to ring me, I'll keep in touch with you. How's that?'

'Great!' Mia smiled. 'I'm glad to hear you're human after all. I suppose it was you winning that scholarship and going off to that posh school, you never seemed the same afterwards, no games in the park, no boyfriends… I know you always said it was because you had too much homework, but you never seemed as happy as you were before you went there. Be happy now, Hes.'

Hester's wedding went off without a hitch—but then, as she told herself grimly, the simpler the wedding, the less likelihood of hitches, and this,
her
wedding, was simplicity brought to a fine point. Demetrios had sent the Rolls, plus a uniformed chauffeur to bring her to the register office, he'd met her on the steps of the building, pinned a spray of tawny yellow and green orchids to the shoulder of her cream linen two-piece, exchanged her necklet of leaves for a string of pearls— putting the near gold little ornament carelessly into his pocket—and then they had gone into the marriage waiting area.

There were no guests, not even a friendly face—the witnesses were a couple brought out of the office staff, and their rather bored expressions made Hester think they'd seen it all before—too many times! She, who had been brought up in a tight community of friends and neighbours—all energetically enthusiastic and determined to make the most of any occasion, she couldn't help feeling let down. She'd been to a great many weddings—participated in the weeks of preparation beforehand, been a bridesmaid and whooped it up at receptions and the 'knees-ups' afterwards. Compared with even the poorest she'd known, this, her own, was incredibly drab—it didn't mean anything to her and she didn't feel married. When she and Demetrios emerged into the street once more, there was only the wide, heavy gold band on her finger to assure her it had all been real.

'Smile!' Demetrios made it a warning whisper out of the corner of his mouth as they came down the steps after the pitiful ceremony, and she raised her eyebrows at the sight of a couple of photographers.

'You arranged this?' she said without moving her lips which were stretched into a painful smile.

'No.' The flashes went off and she blinked involuntarily. His hand was under her elbow and he steered her competently to the waiting car. 'Somebody must have been in during the week and read the notices—the gossip column writers keep an eye on things like that—looking for something worth printing. Those two have a scoop, although they won't be sure until the pictures have been processed and gone through the hands of the writers.'

With a brusque nod, he dismissed the waiting chauffeur, who wandered off into oblivion, like a bit part player leaving the stage, and held the car door open for her.

'Ugh!' Hester gave a little shiver of distaste and then comforted herself with the thought that neither Flo nor Mia would see tomorrow's papers. 'But newspaper photographs are always bad—I shan't be recognised, thank heavens!'

'You seem ashamed of what you're doing.' Demetrios sounded more amused than offended.

'I'm certainly not dancing for joy,' she snarled softly, 'and that reminds me—' She put her fingers to her throat where the pearls rested. They felt smooth and silky but incredibly heavy and cold. 'May I have my necklet back, please?'

'It means that much to you?' and at her nod, he drove in complete silence until he reached the house where she had her bedsit and then stopped the car without making any move to get out. He simply turned and looked at her.

Hester felt threatened and her eyes hunted for the button that controlled the central locking system, but it was out of her reach. She watched, almost hypnotised, as he reached into his pocket to bring out the necklet and she saw his hand clench over it and contract into a fist. When he opened it, the fragile leaves lay crushed in his palm. Without a word, he dropped the mangled remains in her lap.

'Put it away—or better still, throw it away, I don't ever want to see it again!'

Hester fought back tears. Flo and Mia had given it to her last Christmas. As far as value—actual monetary worth was concerned, it didn't rate highly, but she treasured it. Flo was an avid 'catalogue' buyer and Mia had described the hours Flo had spent searching through the highly coloured pages for something pretty that didn't cost too much. Now it was ruined, and she thought she'd never forgive Demetrios for that.

Sorrow gave way to anger and her hands went to the back of her neck, her fingers busy with the small diamond-set gold fastener. It wouldn't open and she tugged viciously until she felt something give, the silk thread snapped and pearls went bouncing and rolling over the floor of the car.

Still in complete silence, she dragged the broken threads, still holding the intact clasp together, from about her neck and dropped them on his knee. When she judged her voice wouldn't tremble, her tightly folded lips parted.

'Vandal!' She spat the word at him. 'I know that as far as you're concerned my little leaves were rubbish, but I'm not like you, I don't value things for what they cost—and this,' she displayed the ruined leaves, touching them with gentle, trembling fingers, 'this was irreplaceable. It was given me in love and I'd have valued it if it had been bought from Woolies. You'll never be able to give me anything one quarter as valuable or precious.' Her voice broke. 'P-pick up your pearls if you w-want them. G-grovel for them! I'll never wear them again. Now open this car and let me out!'

'Where do you think you're going? You're now my wife, remember?'

'So I am,' she sounded bleak, 'but that doesn't mean we've been stuck together with glue. For your information, I'm going to hell, come with me if you want and I hope you enjoy the trip.'

She lurched against the door and it flew open, nearly sending her headlong on to the pavement, but she recovered quickly, dashing into the house and up the stairs as though the devil was at her heels—which he was; she could hear him just behind her and when she halted at her door to burrow in her bag for the key, he was beside her. No horns, forked tail or even a suspicion of a cloven hoof, of course—such outward signs weren't necessary. To anybody else, he was just a tall, well built, good-looking man, well dressed and in complete control of himself—but she—she'd just had a glimpse of what lay beneath the surface, and it frightened her!

She envied him that control. Hers had slipped and she was vaguely ashamed of her behaviour; it didn't go with the image she wanted to project—that of a self-possessed young woman with a skin as thick as a rhinoceros's, somebody who couldn't be hurt. With an enormous effort, she grabbed at her self-control so that when he held out his hand for the key, she could drop it into his palm with studied nonchalance and stand quietly while he opened the door for her. Her cases stood ready packed in the hallway and there was a medium sized cardboard carton in the middle of the living-room floor. Silently Demetrios picked up the cases and took them down to the car, coming back to look at the carton with disfavour.

While he was gone, Hester had been tempted to lock the door against him and stay there, but reason prevailed. Without those cases, she would have nothing to wear and nowhere to go except back to Poplar—which was unthinkable. She didn't want anything she'd done to even touch the edges of Flo's life. Look on this as a change of employment, she reasoned with herself. A different environment, different conditions and different duties—it would be easier that way.

'You don't want this stuff.' Contemptuously he kicked at the carton, which toppled over and disgorged her four cushions, covered with Mia's crocheted wool, and a couple of stuffed toys—a koala bear and a black lamb that Flo had made for her from offcuts of beaver and Persian lamb.

'Where I go,' she said sullenly, 'they go. I won't move a step without them!'

He picked up the two toys and examined them, smoothing down the koala's well worn fur and running a gentle finger over the lamb which was not so well worn. 'Have it your way.' All signs of temper were gone and he sounded quite amiable. 'Come on, madam wife, I don't know about you, but I'm starving!'

In the underground carpark of the hotel, Demetrios frowned as he put a small key into the lock of the private lift which stopped only at the kitchens before it went on to the top of the building. The key wouldn't turn because the small illuminated arrow over the door showed in the 'up' position. To Hester this meant nothing, but seemingly, he was displeased.

'Arrogance!' she chided him bitterly. 'Not everything's set for you convenience.'

Evidently she'd upset him again, because he looked at her out of an expressionless face with hard, angry eyes.

'My convenience has nothing to do with it,' he said between his teeth. 'And if you haven't worked out what it means…' He shrugged, pressed the 'call' button and she heard the whine of the lift on the way down. When it stopped, he ushered her inside, the door closed and in the confined space she heard his voice like the trumpet of doom.

'Where were you yesterday? I called three times, but each time you were out. Finally your landlady told me you'd left very early in the morning, saying you wouldn't be back until late.'

'Out!' She was brief but dignified.

'I also tried to contact your ex-employer,' his voice became silky. '
He
seemed to have disappeared as well. All I received in the way of information was that he couldn't be reached.'

'So,' Hester shrugged as the lift stopped and she walked out into the corridor, 'you add two and two together—in this case, one and one. It doesn't matter if you get the wrong total because the answer's bound to be right if
you've
done the addition.' She was lofty in her displeasure.

She could have explained—that she'd been at the airport, seeing Flo and Mia off to Switzerland—that she had come back to Town, done a bit of shopping, lunched in the cafeteria of a department store and then gone on to Poplar where she had called at the housing offices, paid Flo's rent for three months ahead and then spent the rest of the day cleaning and polishing the flat. That her only company had been a garrulous neighbour from across the hall who had come offering to do the small amount of washing and water the pot plants.

As for Crispin, she knew very well where he would have been—knee-deep in decorators and suppliers of salon fitments, going from one wholesaler to another until he found just what he wanted at the price he was willing to pay. He'd have spared no effort and time would have meant nothing to him. But Hester wasn't going to give her new husband this information.

'As of eleven o'clock this morning,' she said icily, 'you have the right to know where I am, what I'm doing and how many times I blow my nose. But yesterday, that doesn't come within your orbit. Yesterday, I was free and over twenty-one and what I did was my own affair. It had nothing to do with you!' And without waiting for a reply, she stalked in the direction of the door to his suite, where she paused with her hand on the doorknob. Now she knew what Demetrios had meant when he'd been so curt about the position of the lift; it had been used by somebody coming up to his apartment and not sent down again. There was a murmur of voices from within and her -nostrils caught the elusive but potent fragrance of 'Joy' with underneath it a heavier, more exotic perfume.

'We have visitors.' She turned to look at him where he was following her. 'Is this where the act begins, or do we continue to scratch each other's eyes out in public?' She paused, still with her hand on the door. 'Let's see what we know about them,' she sniffed again. 'My dear little mother—do you think she's called to wish me happiness? And there's another woman with her. Slightly younger, I think, and rather an exotic type.'

'Second sight?' Demetrios put a hand on her arm and she brushed it away.

'No, but I've got a nose like a bloodhound.' Her bad temper never lasted long and now she was grinning widely at her own thoughts. 'It's an advantage in any part of the beauty trade, having a nose like mine. Ladies rarely look the same when they're undergoing treatment, yet they expect to be recognised immediately. I always use my nose, it's infallible.'

'And what if several ladies use the same perfume? Demetrios moved closer, seeming interested.

Hester snorted at such ignorance. 'No perfume smells the same on different women, it's to do with the acids on the skin. Well,' she demanded, 'what's it to be, war or sweetness and light? Do we right or do I play the subservient little wife? I'm afraid I can't blush to order and I'm oversized for looking demure…'

'Just control that too ready tongue,' Demetrios pulled her close, his arm about her waist, 'and you could try looking adoring.'

'Miracles
do
take a little longer,' she quoted as he pushed the door open.

Hester hadn't liked the apartment much when she'd visited it before. It was, like most hotel accommodation, impersonal, a triumph of decorating and furnishing but belonging to nobody. Cushions, creaseless and immaculate, were set on the chairs and couches, looking as though they'd never been leant on, and each flower arrangement was a set piece without one bloom out of place, and even Vilma and her companion hadn't disturbed the awful regularity of everything.

Vilma was sitting on one of the couches, her chic little suit just matching her baby blue eyes, and the woman beside her—Hester immediately identified as the leading character in this ridiculous stage set, putting her in the 'other woman' role. Her eyes sparkled as she decided that Demetrios' past had caught up with him—and yet, her glance flicked to his face, taking in not only his lack of expression but also the whole aura of him—he was as much surprised as she. It
was
the past catching up, but, past or present, it had nothing to do with her, and she kept her smile going while the 'other woman' sprang lightly to her feet and ran gracefully across the room to fling herself on Demetrios' chest.