Seen by Candlelight Page 6

  “What do you mean?” Karen asked anxiously. Surely there were not going to be repercussions in this sordid affair?

  Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Karen frowned, and Simon raised his eyebrows.

  “More visitors?” he remarked sarcastically. “I wonder who this can be?”

  Karen shrugged and stubbing out her cigarette she walked to the door and opened it. Paul stood on the threshold, tall and immaculate in a dark blue suit, with a dark blue fitted tie and sparkling white shirt. His immaculate appearance showed Simon’s rather haggard appearance to disadvantage, and Karen could not help but think that Paul always looked better dressed than anyone else, no matter what he wore.

  But Paul’s face was cold and his eyes looked past Karen to the man lounging on her settee. The dark eyes were unfathomable and Karen felt her nerves jumping at the unpleasant expression on his face.

  “Well, well,” Paul drawled at length. “You are popular today, or should I say notorious?”

  His cold eyes surveyed Karen’s state of déshabille and make-up-less facé, and she knew immediately what he was thinking.

  She clasped her fingers. “What a surprise …” she began awkwardly.

  “I’m sure it must be,” remarked Paul sardonically. “If I’d known you knew Simon so intimately … shall we say, I’d have let you plead with him yourself. As it was, I believed you were too fastidious to bother with a man like him.”

  “I was – I am – I mean, you surely don’t believe he’s here because I invited him?” she exclaimed desperately.

  “It certainly looks as though he’s at home here,” replied Paul coldly. “Perhaps you wanted Sandra to stop seeing him so that you would have no competition.”

  Simon decided it was time to intervene. He rose to his feet.

  “Much as it goes against my better judgment,” he said, slowly and deliberately, “I feel I must say that Karen is not interested in me. She has said so in no uncertain terms, I may add.”

  “Thank you,” said Karen, sighing with relief, but Paul’s face did not change. He shrugged, and said:

  “Well, anyway, Karen, I’m sure you will have been told that I’ve already spoken to Simon and he has … agreed … to stop seeing Sandra. Anyway, Simon, it would hardly be worthwhile, bothering with two of them. I’m sure you would find Karen just as delectable for your needs …”

  Karen’s hand moved to slap his face as her anger exploded into action, but he was too quick for her and his fingers closed round her wrist like a vice.

  “I think not,” he murmured softly and cruelly. His eyes narrowed as he looked down into her pale, oval face. “Poor misunderstood Karen,” he continued, “you’ll never learn, will you, darling?”

  “Let go of me!” she exclaimed, between her teeth.

  “My pleasure,” he said releasing her wrist immediately. “Good-bye, Karen. I don’t suppose we’ll be meeting again.”

  He turned and walked away towards the lift and Karen stood and watched him, rubbing her sore wrist. She was absolutely furious and she turned round on Simon when Paul disappeared into the lift.

  “Now see what you’ve done!” she spat at him. “You Frazers! You think you rule the earth!”

  Simon’s eyes widened. “Hey, come on now!” he exclaimed. “I didn’t stir up that tornado. Don’t go blaming me. I agree Paul wasn’t strictly pleased to see me here, but that’s nothing. After all, he’s nothing to you or you to him. What are you getting so het up about?”

  “Get out!” exclaimed Karen holding back the hot tears that were pricking her eyes with a great physical effort.

  “Okay, honey, but remember what I said, won’t you?”

  Simon strode out of the door. “Do you think brother Paul might give me a lift to the office if I asked him?”

  Karen slammed the door without replying and leaned against it feeling sick. The morning had turned out so badly already and it was barely eleven o’clock.

  She walked into her bedroom to get dressed, allowing the hot tears to flow unheeded down her cheeks. She had no opportunity to speak to Paul about what Simon had said about Sandra, and it didn’t look as though she was to be given the chance now.

  Why, oh, why had Paul chosen that particular morning to come? As for Simon, his colossal conceit had convinced him that whatever her attitude, Karen was really quite fond of him – sufficiently so at any rate to watch him ruin her sister’s life without raising a finger to prevent it. She sighed heavily. Life was suddenly so complicated.

  Paul had lunch alone at a small restaurant near the Frazer building. He felt unreasonably depressed and physically disturbed. Food was anathema to him and he had three cups of coffee and a cigar instead of his usual three-course meal. Seeing his brother at Karen’s apartment that morning had flung his whole being into chaotic disorder and he inwardly cursed himself for going there. He also cursed himself for being stupid enough to feel anything about the affair at all. The only reason he had gone to the apartment in the first place was to speak to Karen privately about his talk with Simon, and he had been astounded to find his brother there. Just why was he there, anyway? Could they possibly have been lying and were really lovers? Simon had not slept at home, that was obvious from his attire, and Karen had been wearing a housecoat. The thoughts tortured his aching mind and he stared moodily down at his cigar.

  If Karen were to start an affair with Simon, taunted his thoughts again, what would he do then? Could he stand it? And if not, why? Seeing her had brought all this upon him and he wished to God he had never met her again. His whole carefully constructed life seemed to be shifting on sands; emotional sands. He even considered the thought of having an affair with her himself, if she was agreeable, simply to get her out of his system. It was simply sex raising its ugly head once more. He shook his head. Why should he even consider having an affair with Karen at all? He had Ruth, and no doubt she would be willing to console him if he so desired. What was it about Karen that seemed to get under his very skin? There was only one answer; sex appeal.

  He finished his last cup of coffee and was about to rise when a young voice said lightly:

  “Hello, Paul. What a surprise. May I join you?”

  “Sandra!” he exclaimed, standing up. The sight of Karen’s sister startled him. After his deep thoughts he felt sure something of his feelings must show in his face.

  Sandra Stacey was not a bit like Karen. She was much smaller for one thing and quite plump, with full breasts and broad thighs and a youthful disregard for fashion. Her fair hair hung limply on either side of her oval face, longer than Karen’s but not so well groomed. She was dressed in a dark blue duffel coat with a hood and long off-white tights which ended in thick-heeled shoes. At her age Karen had been tall and slim with good dress sense, even if her clothes like Sandra’s had never been expensive. Sandra’s face was slightly freckled, a fact that she abhorred.

  “Nice to see you,” she remarked, and seated herself so that Paul was forced to sit down too.

  “I’m afraid I was just leaving,” he said politely. “I didn’t know you frequented this place.” It seemed an expensive eating house for her.

  “I don’t normally,” she replied, smiling confidently. “But I work in a hairdressers near here – I’m a trainee stylist, you know – and Simon is taking me to lunch. You may as well know, because he may turn up at any moment.”

  Paul thought this was highly unlikely in the circumstances, but he did not reply. He had no intention of breaking Simon’s bad news for him. Sandra would find out soon enough.

  “Then can’t I order you anything?” he asked slowly.

  “Oh, no, thanks. I’ll wait. How are you? It’s so long since Mother and I have seen you. You’ve quite deserted us.”

  Paul shrugged and offered her a cigarette. “Yes, I’m afraid I find life pretty hectic.”

  “I’ll bet! You’ve just got engaged, haven’t you? I saw it in The Times. My boss reads it, you know.”

  Paul smiled and rose to his
feet. He was not in the mood for conversation.

  “I must go,” he said apologetically.

  “That’s all right, Paul, I understand. Simon is a busy man too. He’s always having to rush back to the office.” She flushed. “Tell me, Paul, do you disapprove of our relationship?”

  Paul bit his lip. “You’re a trifle young for him,” he said dryly. “Besides, Sandra, Simon is a married man. What about his wife? Don’t you care about Julia?”

  “You should know what kind of a person she is,” said Sandra with youthful candour. “Anyway, Simon will look after me, whatever happens.”

  “I doubt it,” remarked Paul. “Simon’s not the constant type. Look around. However, even if he was an angel in disguise, he’s still a married man.”

  He fastened his coat and wondered how much of this conversation was really going in. Sandra seemed too bemused by Simon to care what he was, or did.

  “But he was very young when he got married,” said Sandra. “And he’s only thirteen years older than me.” She flushed. “Karen is twelve years younger than you.”

  “And Karen was much older than you at eighteen,” replied Paul coolly. “I’m sorry, Sandra, but there it is.”

  “I get sick of hearing that,” exclaimed Sandra hotly. “How could she be?”

  Paul shrugged. How could he explain that Karen was born older than Sandra, somehow?

  “I really must go,” he said, glancing at his watch. “Au revoir.”

  “Cheerio, Paul. I’ll give Karen your love,” she giggled slightly, but Paul merely half smiled and walked away.

  CHAPTER THREE

  DURING Thursday Karen telephoned her mother and told her she had had confirmation from Paul that he had spoken to Simon. She did not give any details of their meetings although Madeline tried her hardest to find out what had happened. Karen remained aloof with her and Madeline had to be content that Karen had done her best.

  She was highly delighted that Sandra was no longer involved with “that dreadful man”, and was convinced that Sandra would eventually turn to her for comfort. After all she was her mother, and Sandra didn’t know she had asked Karen to intervene. Karen wondered bleakly if there was a showdown, whether Madeline would admit to having had anything to do with the affair at all. Madeline needed to feel wanted, and if Sandra found out she had instituted such a cruel deed she might well turn against her mother. Karen sighed. As she and Sandra had so little in common anyway, it did not really matter what Sandra thought of her, Karen.

  It would indeed be a tragedy for Madeline if Sandra began to show independent tendencies, more reminiscent of Karen. She had never condoned Karen’s actions in almost anything. Sandra was her baby, her protégée, and she had always clung to her for that reason.

  After Karen had rung off she lit a cigarette and went to make herself some coffee before starting work. It was already late in the afternoon and if she didn’t start soon it would be another day wasted. But, just at the moment, her work had lost its charm and instead she found her thoughts wandering back to Paul and his fiancée.

  The following evening Karen dressed with care for the ball at the Magnifique. She bathed, long and luxuriously, and took a long while dressing, taking everything in slow precision. She had bought herself a new evening dress just that morning, and she wanted to look sleek and glamorous for once. Too long she had shut herself away from society. Life could not go on like that. She was young and unattached. It was only common sense that she should do something about it.

  The dress, when she slipped it on, clung to her body, moulding her rich curves, accentuating her tender waist. It was made of black velvet, with a high round neckline, and tight sleeves. It was a long time since she had spent so much money on herself. Her only adornment was a pair of drop diamond earrings, sparkling circles that winked as she moved her head.

  She wore a white sable stole which had been an anniversary gift from Paul, and her hair hung loose and straight to her shoulders. Its paleness accentuated the darkness of her dress, caressing her cheeks, and framing her attractive features. For a moment she regretted dressing like this for Lewis. After all, he was pressing enough as it was in his desire to make her his wife. He might think she was deliberately setting out to attract him. She sighed. It was too late now anyway. She had no time to change and he would be here at any moment. She took a last look at herself in the mirror and then went to pour the cocktails before Lewis arrived.

  At the back of her mind there was a sudden sadness as she thought of Paul. Would he have admired her dress? She half wished he could see her if only to prove she was not pining away for love of him. She would like to think there was still an element of regret about their divorce. But this was a very faint hope; he probably found Ruth equally beautiful, and she would be quite happy to be his wife and not make the demands on him that Karen had done.

  A knock came at her door and she went to open it. Lewis stood there looking elegant in evening clothes. His eyes were eloquent with admiration. Karen invited him in for a drink before they left and he accepted eagerly. But Karen did not waste too much time. Now that Lewis was here she was eager to be gone. To start this evening which she suddenly felt was going to be a flop. Lewis was not Paul, and it was no good wishing he was.

  They had dinner in the restaurant of the Magnifique. Lewis had reserved a table and the meal was delicious. The Magnifique was quite a newly built hotel, and its clientele were all rich and quite often famous too. Karen found herself identifying stars of television and films and in her interest she forgot her earlier depression. Realizing suddenly that Lewis was addressing her, she said:

  “I’m sorry, Lewis, I was miles away.”

  He smiled. “I was merely saying what a beautiful young woman you are, my dear.”

  “Thank you, kind sir,” she replied lightly. “I’m glad you approve. I wondered whether I ought to have accepted you really. You’re far too patient with me, Lewis. Why don’t you find yourself a wife? I’ll never change, you know.”

  His eyes narrowed only slightly, and then he said:

  “We’ll see. My housekeeper is leaving at the end of next month. Her sister in Glasgow has been in hospital and she has promised to go and look after her when she comes home. It looks like being a very long job. I don’t suppose you would care to take on her position?”

  “As your housekeeper?” asked Karen teasingly.

  “As my wife,” Lewis said determinedly.

  Karen shook her head. “Isn’t that Jane Mannering over there?” she asked evasively. “She looks much younger than she does on the screen.”

  Lewis shrugged his slim shoulders. “You’re an adept, aren’t you, Karen?” he asked.

  “At what?” she queried coolly.

  Lewis frowned. “You know what I mean,” he answered heavily. “But we won’t mention it again, as it seems to annoy you.”

  Karen flushed and for a while they ate in silence.

  When the meal was over and they were having liqueurs with their coffee, Lewis said:

  “Tell me, has this business over Sandra been satisfactorily settled?”

  “You might say that,” replied Karen, managing a small smile. “We must wait and see, mustn’t we?”

  “As in all things,” he replied enigmatically.

  When dinner was over they joined the crowds of people arriving for the ball, which began at ten-thirty. Karen and Lewis sat in the cocktail bar until after eleven, and Karen found the unusual amount of alcohol she was consuming was relaxing her, and she began to enjoy herself. Before they entered the ballroom she went into the cloakroom to powder her nose. It was thronged with the most elaborately-clad women, emeralds, sapphires, rubies and diamonds, all competing with each other in their magnificence.

  Karen repaired her make-up and applied a coral lipstick to her lips. Her long lashes required no mascara and she wore only a little eye-shadow. The smooth silkiness of her hair looked infinitely more attractive than the complicated coiffures of the women around her.
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  She rejoined Lewis at the arched entrance to the massive ballroom. He was standing watching the dancers, smoking a cigarette.

  “Ah, you’re ready,” he said, as she joined him. “There’s quite a crowd here as you can see. Let’s try and find a table.”

  “All right, Lewis. I’m really enjoying myself. I’m so glad you invited me.”

  “The pleasure is all mine,” returned Lewis suavely, and they strolled into the crowds thronging the dance floor.

  There were tables set around the polished sprung floor, each with a lamp in its centre emitting an intimate glow. The orchestra, a famous one, was installed on a low dais at the far end of the hall while at the other end a long bar had been erected. The rest of the walls were set with tall mirrors which reflected the dancers many times over. The ceiling was high and arched and fluted pillars supported its carved elegance.

  “It’s very impressive,” said Karen looking about her with interest. “I had no idea it would be like this.”

  Lewis smiled, satisfied that he had pleased her.

  They found a vacant table and Lewis ordered drinks from a passing waiter. There seemed to be plenty of waiters passing amongst the guests and everyone seemed relaxed and informal.

  After watching the progress of the dancers for a while, Lewis said: “Shall we dance, or do you prefer to watch?”

  “Oh, no, I prefer to dance,” exclaimed Karen, smiling, “Let’s, please, Lewis. My feet are positively itching!”

  Lewis smiled and helped her up from the table. He swung her round into the rhythm of the music. It was so nice to feel as though she was living again and Karen found she could follow Lewis’s lead with an ease which surprised her, for it was so long since she had danced. He was quite a good dancer and they danced three times without a break.

  The band suddenly struck up a cha-cha, and Karen looked teasingly at Lewis. “Can you?” she asked, smiling.

  “I can but try,” he replied, smiling too, and they contrived to follow the rhythm without much success. Lewis was not a born dancer and Karen could not follow his rather jerky movements. They were laughing together when Karen’s attention was drawn to four people entering the ballroom. They were endeavouring to reach a table near the orchestra and were threading their way among the crowds of people thronging the edge of the floor. There were two men and two women. One of the men was Paul Frazer.