Tangled Tapestry

McGill blew a smoke ring lazily, and then smiled. ‘Illegitimate? What a terrible word! Would it matter to you if you were?’

Debra swallowed hard. ‘Yes.’

‘Why? You weren’t responsible.’

‘I know—but there’s a stigma attached, all the same.’

‘Imagination,’ he remarked, looking amused still.

‘You know nothing about it,’ she stormed at him angrily. ‘You seem to think you can tell me anything, and I should just be able to accept it—like that!’ She rubbed her nose thoughtfully. ‘I always thought my parents died in a train crash. I wish they had.’

‘Oh, grow up!’ He looked disgusted now.

‘Well!’ Debra drew on her cigarette. ‘Anyway, surely you must have some idea—if this woman had a baby, people would know!’

‘And that’s the only point against this claim,’ he said, nodding. ‘So far as Emmet can remember, Elizabeth worked solidly from the end of the war until about 1953 when we know she took six months’ holiday, on doctor’s orders. She went to Fiji, in the Phillippines.’ He smiled slowly and reminiscently, and Debra looked at him strangely.

‘How old are you, Mr. McGill?’ she asked, frowning.

‘Thirty-nine. Why?’

‘Just curiosity,’ she replied, walking across the gravel sweep to the side of the house where that wonderful view was visible. Hé followed her, the soles of his suede shoes crunching on the stones. She looked up at him for a moment, meeting his eyes. They were so blue, she thought inconsequently, and then colouring, she looked away feeling gauche. ‘So you would be twenty-three, in 1953,’ she said, half to herself, and he nodded. ‘Had … had you started in the business then?’

He shrugged. ‘Only just,’ he replied briefly. He glanced at the gold watch circling his tanned wrist. ‘Come: let’s go. We’ll drive to San José for lunch. We pass through the Santa Clara valley on our way. The fruit groves are blooming at this time of year. It’s quite a sight.’

Debra walked back to the car and slid in easily. It was strange, she thought, how quickly the mind adapted itself to circumstances. She would never have believed a week ago that so many eventful things could happen to her. And to imagine what Aunt Julia would think of her exploring the countryside in company with Dominic McGill was laughable, really. She would be scandalised!

When he climbed in beside her, she looked at him. ‘You didn’t tell me why you brought me here.’

McGill switched on the engine before replying. ‘I guess I wanted to see you here. And after all, this is only a small part of what you would inherit if you really are Elizabeth Steel’s daughter. There’s still the house on Wilshire Boulevard, although that is in excellent repair. Her staff of servants are still employed there. Aaron pays their salaries. It was never closed up. Her death was so unexpected.’

‘I don’t know what to say,’ exclaimed Debra, feeling in her handbag for her cigarettes.

‘What do you want?’ he asked, noticing her fumbling.

‘A cigarette.’

He drew out the slim gold cigarette case from his pocket, flicked it open, and she took one of the long American cigarettes from it. Then he tossed his lighter into her lap, and she lit the cigarette gratefully. ‘Thank you.’

He nodded and put the lighter back in his pocket. ‘Now, tell me about your life in England.’

Debra sighed. ‘There’s very little to tell. My life has been singularly uneventful, so far!’ and she smiled when she saw his humorous expression. ‘It’s true. I teach at the Valleydown Secondary School, and I live with Aunt Julia. When you’ve said that, you’ve said it all.’

He shook his head. ‘And you are content?’

‘I suppose I am. I like reading, you see, and classical music, and it doesn’t take much to entertain me.’

He gave a short laugh. ‘God, what a life!’

Debra smoked her cigarette in silence, content to gaze out of the window. The journey to San José was accomplished swiftly. Once on to Route 101, Dominic McGill opened up the powerful engine, and the Ferrari responded effortlessly. Debra glanced once at the speedometer and read its dial disbelievingly. Then she glanced at her companion, seeing the intense concentration on his face, and decided to say nothing. It was obvious he had complete control of the automobile, and the outside world had temporarily ceased to exist for him.

They ate at a motel restaurant on the outskirts of the city. It was an enormous place, cabanas set around a swimming pool providing the individual accommodation. The restaurant had a glass floor through which a gigantic aquarium was visible below them. Debra gazed about her in astonishment, following Dominic McGill and a white-coated attendant across to a table in one comer. Potted plants in huge bases clung tenaciously over the trellises which divided the tables, while a four-piece group of Mexican entertainers played unobtrusively on a small dais near the bar. Their table was set by a wide glass-paned wall that overlooked the swimming pool, and the highway beyond.

Dominic McGill ordered martinis, his own laced with gin, and then they studied the enormous menus, Debra unable to decide from so many exciting dishes which to choose. McGill looked at her over the top of his menu and grinned lazily. ‘Well?’ he said. ‘Have you decided?’

Debra shook her head, liking the crinkly, humorous lines around his eyes. ‘Would you—I mean—you decide?’

He studied her momentarily, and then returned to the menu. ‘Okay, we’ll have avocado cocktail, steaks, and lemon soufflé, does that sound all right?’

Debra put her menu aside. ‘It sounds wonderful!’ She accepted another cigarette, and after it was lit, she said: ‘This is a marvellous place, isn’t it?’

It’s okay.’ He looked sardonic. ‘You’re easily satisfied.’

Debra flushed, and he bit his lip. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said shortly. ‘I guess that was unkind.’

Debra did not reply, but her cheeks continued to burn. He must think her an awfully old-fashioned creature. Probably the women he was used to associating with could verbally spar with him much more successfully than she could. All she seemed to do was act like a teenager who had never been taken out for a meal before.

Dominic McGill studied her expression. She had a very revealing countenance, although she was unaware of it. She was also unaware of the attractive picture she made in her orange suit, her sleek swathe of dark hair falling like a curtain of silk across her cheeks.

The meal was delicious, but Debra purposely refrained from enthusing over it. Instead, she concentrated on enjoying it, and the white and red wine which he had ordered to go with the food. Unused to alcohol, she was vaguely aware that she was drinking rather too much, but she did not want to appear gauche, so she drank her martini, and three glasses of wine, and even had several sips of the brandy which accompanied their coffee.