Wild Melody (4 page)

unnerving her. Only the thought that when evening came he would take her

to Jeremy stopped her from grabbing up her things and running away as fast

as she could.

'Come along, lovey.' Mrs Birch's voice was kind. 'A nice lie down is what

you want. You'll feel better in no time.'

Catriona found herself in a small bedroom furnished in muted browns and

yellows with a thick continental quilt on the single bed. It was incredibly

soft and warm and she felt an almost sensuous relaxation as she stretched

out under it.

'A good sleep,' Mrs Birch was saying somewhere a long way off. 'A good

sleep.'

Catriona slept.

SHE was awoken by a hand on her shoulder. Mrs Birch in outdoor clothes

was standing by the bed, holding a small tray.

'Coffee, miss,' she announced. 'Mr Lord will be back

soon. I'd be ready if I were you. He hates being kept waiting.'

Catriona was sorely tempted to proclaim her total indifference to Mr Lord's

likes and dislikes, but she knew that under the circumstances, that would be

churlish.

'The bathroom's just across the hall, and I've put clean towels in there in

case you want a shower,' Mrs Birch went on. 'Now if that's all, miss, I'll be

getting along.'

'Thank you. You've been very kind,' Catriona said sincerely.

'It's been a pleasure,' Mrs Birch replied brightly. 'I hope we meet again,

miss. And if I might say so'—she lowered her voice confidentially—'I

wouldn't wear the jeans, miss. Not up West anyway. Fine for the Kings

Road, but I don't suppose you'll be going there.' And she was gone.

Catriona finished her coffee and slid out of bed. The unpopular jeans and

her shirt were lying on the dressing stool and she picked them up, her face

a little mutinous. All she had in her rucksack were two cotton dresses she

had made last week, and some woollen sweaters. Tossing her dark hair

determinedly from her face, she marched off to find the bathroom.

She was brushing her hair back into a ponytail and securing it with an

elastic band when Jason Lord returned. She heard him come whistling

down the hall and pause outside her door, and she squared her shoulders.

'Are you ready, Miss Muir?' he called.

'Quite ready.' She picked up her duffel coat and walked to the door.

Somewhat to her surprise, he gave her a mocking grin as she emerged into

the hall.

'I like a girl who sticks to her principles,' he commented as his eyes ran

over her. 'Come, Cinderella, you shall go to the ball.'

Her blood boiling, she followed him to the front door and down the steps

to the sleek cream-coloured car that awaited them. Jason Lord held the

door open for her and she subsided a little awkwardly into the low tan

leather seat on the ; passenger side. She stared entranced at the dashboard,

wondering what the various buttons and dials could be for.

'Do you drive?' He slid into the seat beside her, and flicked the ignition

expertly. The car started immediately, and they pulled away.

'I had a few lessons, but I never took the test.'

'A pity. It's an advantage, wherever you happen to live,'

he said.

'Perhaps Jeremy will teach me.'

'Perhaps he will,' he returned noncommittally.

Catriona tried to make note of each turn they took, but she was soon

bewildered. The streets were wider now, and the traffic was getting

heavy. The houses were giving way to shops too, and as they drove along

Catriona saw signs

advertising more theatres and restaurants than she had ever dreamed

existed.

'I've never seen so many people,' she remarked impulsively, then regretted

sounding so naive.

'You should see it on Sundays. It's almost as quiet as Torvaig,' he said. 'And

what's more, I've seen a vacant parking meter. Here we go.'

A few minutes later, Catriona found herself in a huge shop. Jason Lord's

hand was under her elbow, urging her forward through the crowds

thronging the counters, as she caught tantalising glimpses of exquisite

displays of scarves and handbags and sniffed exotic odours as she was

whisked through the cosmetics department.

'Lift or escalator?' he asked, then quickly, 'I'm sorry, I'm treating you like a

child. But you look so damned young in those jeans with your hair tied

back.'

'I know—like a waif,' she retorted, already more than conscious that she

seemed to be the only person in jeans in the whole massive building. 'And

I've never been on an escalator.'

'Up we go, then.' He steadied her on to the moving staircase. 'Hold on to me

if you like.' v

'The rail is quite adequate/ she returned stiffly, then spoiled it by stumbling

as they stepped off at the top.

Her feet sank into a thick carpet, and somewhere soft music was playing.

Everywhere there were clothes, displayed on models, pinned on wire

frames, hanging on rails and circular racks. She felt she was dreaming, and

then another more demoralising thought struck her. She caught at Jason

Lord's sleeve. 'My money! I—I left it in the rucksack.'

'Well?' He looked tall and forbidding as he swung to look at her. 'What of

it?'

Catriona gestured awkwardly around her.

'I haven't enough with me to pay for anything here.'

'I never suggested you should. Now come on. We've a lot to get through.' He

sounded impatient. 'First things first. We don't even know whether you'll

find a dress you like here.'

'But they must have hundreds of dresses,' Catriona gasped.

'You're an unusual woman if that makes any difference,' he said. 'Ah,

there's the person we want.' He propelled Catriona towards a grey-haired

woman in a smart black suit, standing by a rail of coats studying some

papers. 'Hello, Mrs Cuthbert. We need your help.'

'Mr Lord.' The woman smiled charmingly, then turned to Catriona. 'My

word!' she said.

'And that's putting it mildly.' Jason Lord took Catriona by the shoulders and

pushed her forward. 'She's going to Mrs Lord's party with me and she hasn't

a thing to wear. What can you do for her?' Mrs Cuthbert studied Catriona,

now flushed with humiliation.

'Well, there are possibilities,' she said cautiously. 'What does she need?'

'The works.' Jason Lord released Catriona and stepped back. 'And her hair,

Mrs Cuthbert. I don't know who attends to my sister-in-law, but. . .'

'It's Miss Barbara,' said Mrs Cuthbert. 'I'll phone the salon now and see if

she can squeeze another appointment in.'

'Fine.' He consulted his watch. 'Shall we say the restaurant in two hours?'

'I'll send her to you,' Mrs Cuthbert promised. Catriona raged inwardly.

They might have been talking about one of the dummy figures standing

round the department, she thought furiously. And just who was going to

pay for all this? She still had to find somewhere to live until she and Jeremy

could be married. She could not afford to spend any of her little hoard of

money on a party dress she did not need. But Jason Lord's tall figure was

already disappearing, and Mrs Cuthbert was leading her gently but firmly

to a fitting room.

Later that evening, Catriona stood in front of the mirror in the small

bedroom at the flat and looked at herself in frank disbelief.

The dress was almost the same green as her eyes, and its low bodice cut

square across her small breasts was covered with sparkling crystals with

narrow matching shoulder- straps. The straight satin skirt reached the floor,

hiding her delicately strapped high-heeled sandals. She was really

Cinderella, she thought wonderingly. Her hair, expertly trimmed, had been

set so that it hung smooth and shining to her shoulders, just turning up at the

ends. She was lightly made up, with eye-shadow and mascara used just as

the girl in the beauty salon had shown her, and her lips glowed a pale rose.

A small evening bag, studded with crystals, lay on the dressing table. She

picked it up, and putting the long stole that matched the dress over her arm,

went down the hall to the room where she had met Jason Lord.

He was standing leaning on the mantelpiece, with a glass in his hand. He

looked up as she entered, and she paused nervously waiting for some barbed

remark. But the silence stretched on endlessly, and she felt oddly

disappointed.

'Would you like a drink?' There was a formal note in his voice. 'No—thank

you.'

'Right.' He finished what was left in his glass and put it down. 'We'll be off,

then.' He took the stole from her and placed it round her shoulders. She was

acutely aware of his touch on her bare skin and moved away restively.

They drove for a long time in silence. Catriona kept stealing looks at her

companion, but his eyes were firmly fixed on the road and all she saw was

his hard profile. He too had a chin, she noticed, and a nasty habit of

expecting his own way to match it. Which reminded her of the worry that

had been nagging her all afternoon even through her bewildered enjoyment

of choosing the dress, and its underwear and accessories, and the hair-do

and beauty treatment that followed.

'This dress is outrageous,' she informed him.

'I wouldn't say so.' He still did not look at her. 'A little more revealing than

you're probably used to, that's all.'

'I didn't mean that, and you know it,' said Catriona hotly. 'I mean the price.'

'Don't worry about it,' he told her lightly. 'After all, it's in the family, isn't it?

And Jeremy's mother has an account there, as you may have gathere/d. We

could charge it to her, if you'd rather.'

'We'll do no such thing-—' Catriona began, then saw his lips twitch. 'You're

laughing at me again,' she said uncertainly.

'A little,' he said. 'Why not forget about the cost of it all, and start thinking

about what you're going to say to Jeremy. Surely that's more important than

anything else. Concentrate on the dialogue, darling, and forget the props.

They're just incidental.'

'I wish you wouldn't call me darling!'

'I know you do.' He sent her a swift glance, one mocking brow raised. 'And

so—darling—I do it all the more.'

'Just to annoy me?'

'You do rise to the bait so beautifully—and so regularly,' he said.

Catriona lifted her chin and stared through the windscreen into the

darkness. Jeremy's parents, she had learned, lived just outside Staines near

the river. She supposed that one day she would be familiar with this route,

and with the house they were bound for. Now she felt totally at sea, and it

frightened her to realise that she was wholly dependent on this stranger

beside her. After all, she only had his word for it that there was a party at all.

He could be taking her anywhere.

The car slowed steadily, then turned through a pair of white gates and up a

shallow drive.

Catriona saw the lights of a large house and heard the steady beat of music

close at hand. There were a lot of other cars parked in the drive and on the

gravelled sweep in front of the house, and she sat quietly as Jason

manoeuvred his vehicle into one of the remaining spaces.

When he opened the door for her, she sat still for a moment, marshalling her

courage.

'Cold feet?' he inquired.

'I'm perfectly warm, thanks,' she returned, deliberately misunderstanding

him. His hand closed round hers as he helped her out of the car, and for a

moment she almost returned the pressure of his fingers. But just in time she

remembered who he was, and the treatment she had been forced to put up

with from him, and snatched her hand away.

'Come along then, Miss Muir,' he said, and she was startled to hear the harsh

note back in his voice. 'This is what you wanted. Make the most of it.'

Inside the house, Catriona was startled to find a uniformed maid waiting to

take-their coats.

'Don't worry,' Jason murmured. 'She's not permanent staff. Just hired for the

big occasion.'

He guided her expertly through groups of chatting people in the hall into a

large room with a bar at one end. Catriona noticed that French windows

stood open at one side, leading apparently to a big conservatory.

'There's Clive—never far from the drinks,' he remarked. 'Brace yourself,

darling, you're about to meet my respected brother, and Jeremy's papa.'

Clive Lord was shorter than his brother with slightly receding hair and a

developing paunch. He looked much older than Jason too, but in his smile

Catriona thought she could detect a reminder of Jeremy, and she warmed to

him.

'I don't think I've seen you here with Jason before, have I,

Miss—er—Muir?' he asked, handing her a glass filled with a glowing red

liquid.

'Please call me Catriona,' she said, smiling up at him, and ignoring Jason's

sardonic smile.

'I don't suppose you know how honoured you are, Clive,' he murmured.