Legacy Of The Past

Diana’s eyes brightened. ‘Could I?’ Jeff had only been to tea once before at the flat and then Madeline had had a headache and had had to leave them to their own devices.

She smiled now. ‘Of course. After tea, if Uncle Adrian comes round, we might play Monopoly or something.’

Diana looked disgusted. ‘Oh, Mum, Jeff and I won’t want to play games!’

Madeline shrugged. ‘All right. What will you do then?’

‘We might go to the Seventies Club.’

Madeline frowned. She did not like the idea of Diana going to a place like that on a Sunday evening, but alternatively it was better to know they were there, rather than wandering round the streets.

‘All right,’ she said, ‘you do what you like.’

CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_c8d9991e-7dd0-5e3e-8b6d-2668ea678e93)

DURING Monday, Madeline found her thoughts straying often to the evening ahead. It was quite an occasion for her to go out during the week. Now and then she and Adrian would take the train to London and go and see a show or listen to a concert at the Royal Festival Hall, but these outings were few and far between as Adrian was usually busy during the week, and besides, there was Diana to consider. She was still very young to be left too long alone and Madeline always put her first.

On Sunday Adrian had come to high tea at the flat and met Jeff. They had had quite a good time together. Jeff was intelligent and could discuss topics with Adrian which neither of the women could have done. Madeline found him quite charming and wondered whether she was worrying unduly about Diana. After all, surely young people could be friendly without getting themselves into bother. He was a nice-looking boy and whatever his background he was able to take care of himself and act as politely as the next person.

At lunchtime on Monday, Madeline went into the town centre. She had decided to treat herself to a new dress for the evening. She rarely indulged herself, except for necessities, and even Diana had gone as far as to say that this kind of affair did not happen every day. Madeline suspected that Diana was hoping for some development in her relationship with Adrian, and if so, Madeline knew she was going to be disappointed.

She found what she wanted in a small dress shop in Gilesgate. It was more than she had expected to pay, but she couldn’t resist it after trying it on. It was a delicious shade of leaf green chiffon, an ankle-length dress with sequins studded on the bodice. The neckline was low and round and embroidered with tiny beads and it had long sleeves which ended in cuffs, also embroidered with beads. It was the ideal dress for the occasion and she took it back to work feeling very pleased with her expedition. When Adrian asked to see it later in the afternoon she refused to show it to him.

‘Wait until tonight,’ she said teasingly. ‘I want to surprise you.’

Adrian chuckled. ‘All right, my dear, have it your own way. But I shall expect you to model it before we leave for the party.’

Madeline smiled and shook her head. Really, Adrian was a dear, she thought, sighing. Why couldn’t she decide to marry him and be done with it?

They were due at the Mastersons’ at nine o’clock and Adrian called at ten minutes to nine. He had already collected Mr. Hetherington and he was waiting in the car when they went down. Diana was not going out this evening. Jeff was studying and she had decided to wash her hair and play her records.

Madeline was wearing a brushed wool coat in a creamy colour and for once had left her hair loose on her shoulders. She looked about twenty-five and Diana had said, rather scathingly:

‘Good heavens, Mum, no one will believe you have a daughter of over sixteen!’

‘That’s all to the good, surely?’ Madeline had answered, but Diana had sounded non-committal. Madeline wondered whether the fact of Diana losing Joe at such an early age had made her doubly dependent on herself, and doubly willing to resent her mother’s youthful appearance. It was as though she was afraid Madeline might forget she had a daughter altogether, which was ridiculous.

Of course, Joe had been so much older, and Diana would have obviously greatly preferred a homely, buxom type without any pretensions to attraction. Perhaps her campaign on Adrian’s behalf was fixed on the idea that as Adrian was middle-aged he might tone her mother down somewhat.

Madeline was amused at her speculations. Ought she indeed to make Adrian and Diana happy and marry him after all? But then she squashed the idea. It wouldn’t make anybody happy really. The novelty of having a headmaster as her stepfather would wear off with Diana if he tried to press any restriction upon her; Adrian would be continually in a state about his precious collection and Madeline – well! she would be utterly bored by the whole affair. Nothing, not even security, was worth that much.

Hetherington was most complimentary about her appearance. Adrian had already said how delightful she looked in the new dress, so Madeline felt sure she was going to enjoy herself, and relaxed completely.

The Mastersons’ house, Ingleside, was not far away. Standing in its own grounds and floodlit by night, it looked very impressive as they turned between the permanently open drive gates. There were several cars parked in front of the house on the gravelled courtyard. Madeline saw that most of them were the wide, luxurious type, made by the Sheridan factory and its counterparts. They looked superlatively comfortable and she envied their occupants such vehicular superiority. There were several Sheridans like the one into which she had skidded last week on her scooter, but not one red one.

The house, which had been built during the sixteenth century, had been renovated extensively and although from the outside it looked typically Elizabethan, inside central heating, electric lights and fitted carpets had done away with much of its atmosphere.

The hall, wide and high with a carved roof was lit by electric candelabra, set at intervals round the walls giving a restful, luminous quality to the polished panelling and oak furniture. The floor, too had been polished and was ideal for dancing. However, most of the guests seemed to have congregated in a large lounge to the right of the hall and the manservant who had admitted them and taken their coats went into the lounge to advise his employers of their arrival.

Madeline was entranced by the place and was fascinatedly studying the minstrels’ gallery when a dainty little woman in rich purple pants and blouse came out of the lounge to greet them. She introduced herself as Lucie Masterson, and said that her husband would join them later.

‘He’s closeted with Nicholas – you know, Nicholas Vitale, at the moment,’ she said, after she had discovered their identity. ‘They’re always talking business these days. I do hope you won’t think he’s being rude. But Nicholas is the boss and they do have a lot to discuss while he’s here.’

‘That’s quite all right, Mrs. Masterson,’ replied Hetherington, smiling. ‘We understand.’

‘Good,’ Lucie beamed. She could have been any age between thirty-five and forty-five, speculated Madeline, who thought she seemed a rather shallow woman at first appraisal.

Lucie drew them into the throng in the lounge. There were about thirty guests, all standing around drinking cocktails and exchanging small talk. A radiogram played soft music in a corner and there was an aroma of French perfume and Havana tobacco. A rich red carpet covered the floor, the colour of which was echoed in the heavy velvet curtains. There were couches and armchairs upholstered in soft leather while the white walls were relieved of starkness by vivid prints.

Many of the guests seemed to be married couples, Madeline discovered, as Lucie introduced them around. There was an almost equal number of Italians and Americans, and Lucie explained that Sheridans had factories in both countries as well as here. When Adrian and Mr. Hetherington got caught up in technical discussions with some of the older guests present Madeline found herself beside a young American couple called Fran and Dave Madison.

‘Do you live in Otterbury,’ asked Fran, interestedly, as Madeline accepted a cigarette from Dave.

‘Yes. I have a flat not far from here, actually,’ replied Madeline. ‘Do you?’

‘Yes. We, too, have a flat,’ confirmed Dave. ‘But we’re expecting to have a house soon in the new development near the factory later in the year.’

‘Oh, I see. You’re from America?’

‘That’s right,’ Dave grinned. ‘I guess the accent is unmistakable.’

Madeline chuckled. ‘I thought you might have been here visiting the Mastersons,’ she said. She looked at Fran. ‘Do you like England?’

‘It’s okay, I guess,’ said Fran, without enthusiasm. ‘There’s not much to do, is there? We’re hoping to go to Italy later on. Have you ever been abroad?’

‘Just to France,’ said Madeline ruefully. ‘Since my husband died, my daughter and I don’t go away a lot.’

‘You have a daughter?’ exclaimed Dave in surprise. ‘A baby daughter?’

‘No. Actually, she’s sixteen,’ replied Madeline, smiling. ‘But thank you for those few kind words.’

‘They weren’t kind,’ exclaimed Dave, grinning. ‘I wouldn’t say you looked more than twenty-five or six.’

Fran was looking a little put out now and Madeline was glad when another man came to join them. He was like Dave, tall and fair, with pleasant freckly features.

‘Hi there, you two,’ he said easily, obviously knowing the Madisons well. ‘Have we got a new member of the organization?’

‘No,’ answered Dave, turning to him. ‘Madeline, this is Harvey Cummings – he, too, is a member of the Sheridan clan.’

‘How do you do,’ said Madeline politely, nodding at the newcomer.

‘I’m fine,’ answered Harvey, grinning. ‘Especially when a lovely woman is interested. Say, do you have a husband somewhere around?’

‘I’m a widow,’ replied Madeline, her cheeks reddening. His rather direct approach was a little disconcerting, to say the last.

‘Great. I mean great for me,’ said Harvey exuberantly. ‘I thought you looked rather lonely and unattached. May I attach myself to you?’

Madeline looked rather helplessly at the Madisons. ‘Is your wife not here?’ she asked cautiously.