Flawless

Saul stopped the car, and glanced up at the block of flats. ‘Very nice,’ he commented. ‘Your career really is doing well.’ He paused. ‘Do you live by yourself?’

She shook her head. ‘I share with another girl. She works for a television company.’

‘Is she there at the moment?’

‘No,’ Carly said, before she could stop herself. ‘She’s abroad with a film crew.’

‘Then I’ll go up with you,’ he said.

She looked at him in total dismay, and his mouth tightened.

‘And not for the reasons you seem to think,’ he added bitingly. ‘My motives are actually quite chivalrous. I want to make sure you get home safely.’

‘Don’t you feel you’re being rather over-protective?’

‘No, I don’t. I took a girl home from a party in New York over a year ago. She was independent, too, and insisted on saying goodnight on the pavement. When she got up to her apartment, someone had broken in, and she was attacked and badly injured. If I’d insisted on escorting her to the door, it might not have happened. I’m not taking the risk again.’

‘In case you hadn’t noticed, this is London, not New York.’

‘Just a different part of the jungle, lady.’ He walked up the steps beside her, and opened the swing doors.

She stood beside him in the lift in resentful silence. Walked along the passage to the door, still without speaking.

“May I have your key?’ Saul held out his hand.

‘Oh, this is silly,’ Carly burst out in exasperation as she gave it to him. ‘Just how many times do you think I’ve come back here alone at night? Lucy’s away a lot.’

‘That was in the bad old days.’ He unlocked the door, and pushed it open. ‘Now you don’t have to be alone any more, unless you want to be.’

Carly lifted her chin. ‘Is that a hint that you want to stay for more coffee—or a nightcap—or whatever the current euphemism is? How very obvious.’

‘No,’ he said calmly. ‘It’s more a declaration of intent.’

He was standing very close to her. She could actually feel the warmth of his body. Suddenly Carly found it difficult to breathe. Any moment now, she thought wildly, and he would reach out for her, take her in his arms, and she was terrified. She felt as if she was balanced on a knife-edge, every nerve-ending tingling in alarm and anticipation.

Kiss me, she thought, her heart beating violently against her ribcage. Kiss me and get it over with.

As he moved, her eyelids fluttered down, and her lips parted in a little unconscious sigh. Her whole body tensed, waiting to feel his hands on her, his mouth against hers.

He said quietly, ‘Goodnight, Flawless Girl. Call me after the weekend, and let me know what you’ve decided.’

The door closed softly, and he was gone.

Carly’s eyes flew open, and she stood rigid for a long moment, staring at the enigmatic wooden panels; then, with a small sob, she hurled herself forward, putting up the chain and securing the interior bolt with hands that shook.

She’d been so sure that, in spite of her protestations, he would offer at least a token pass. Now, paradoxically, she felt that he’d made a fool of her.

And that’s ridiculous, she thought. Because Saul Kingsland is the one who’s been fooled. I’ve done it. I’ve succeeded. I’ve won.

She laughed out loud, and the sound echoed eerily in the quiet flat.

She walked into her bedroom, shedding her few clothes as she went, and straight into the bathroom which separated her room from Lucy’s, stepping into the shower, and turning the warm spray full on. She stood motionless, letting the water pour over her, soaking her hair, and running in rivulets down her skin.

Washing Saul Kingsland away.

But only for the time being, she reminded herself with a sharp stab of excitement as she reluctantly turned off the water, and stepped back on to the thick mat, reaching for a towel.

On Monday, she would make that call, and after that—she drew a breath. After that, whatever would be, would be.

As she turned, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, and almost recoiled. It was like seeing a stranger, or her own bad angel, eyes glittering with malevolence, bright, febrile colour along her cheekbones, the soft mouth starkly compressed.

Revenge might be sweet, but, dear heaven, what would it cost her in human terms?

The image in the mirror blurred suddenly and, bending her head, Carly began to weep—for the girl she’d been, and for the woman she’d become.

The sun was pouring into the bedroom the next morning, as she packed a weekend bag with her usual economy. The dress she had bought specially to wear for the party was already waiting in its protective cover, and she grimaced slightly as she lifted it down and carried it out to her car.

A greater contrast to the dress she’d worn the previous night could not be imagined, she thought wryly. But then, she hardly looked the same girl at all. She was simply and casually dressed in tailored cream linen trousers with a matching jacket over a short-sleeved khaki T-shirt. Her hair was gathered into a single plait, and allowed to hang over one shoulder, and her face was innocent of all cosmetics but a touch of moisturiser.

As she loaded the car, she couldn’t resist a furtive look round. In spite of his assurances, Saul Kingsland might be there watching her, perhaps from one of the row of parked cars across the street.

Oh, stop it, she adjured herself impatiently. That’s the way to paranoia.

Traffic was heavy, and getting out of London required all her concentration. She couldn’t relax until trees and fields began to replace suburban sprawl. She lowered the window a little, to enjoy the sunlit breeze, and put a cassette of Vivaldi’s Four Seasons into the tape machine, then sat back to savour the remainder of her journey.

An hour later, she turned the car into the gravelled sweep of the drive and saw the familiar red-brick Georgian bulk of the house awaiting her. She drove round to the rear, and parked in the former stables, slotting her Polo in between her father’s Bentley and the sedate estate car her mother preferred.

She sat for a moment, staring in front of her, then, with a smothered sigh, collected her things, and walked down the covered way to the side entrance.

There was a lot of activity already, she saw. A large marquee had been erected on the lawn, and folding tables and chairs were being carried into it. As she watched, a florist’s van drew up in front of the house, and two women dressed in pink overalls got out. Presently, no doubt, the caterers’ vehicles would also be arriving.

Mother will be in her element, Carly thought, her mouth twisting. She’ll be able to use it as a trial run for Susan’s actual wedding. And I’m about as necessary in all this as an extra thumb.

She caught a movement in the large conservatory which flanked the lawn and, smiling a little, trod quietly across the gravel and stood in the doorway watching the tall, grey-haired man who was deftly repotting some plants.

‘Hello, Father.’

He turned with an obvious start, and peered at her. ‘Why, Caroline,’ he said, ‘so you’ve come. Your mother wasn’t sure … Well, this is splendid—splendid.’ He paused, then added another vague, ‘Splendid.’

Carly bit her lip. ‘I did say I was coming,’ she said, quietly. ‘If I’m not expected—if my room’s being used, I can always try the pub.’

‘Certainly not. I’m sure your room’s ready and waiting for you, my dear, although, of course, your mother always handles those arrangements. She’s in the drawing-room, having coffee with your Aunt Grace. I said I’d join them once I’d finished this and washed my hands, but now …’ His voice tailed off expectantly.

‘But now that I’ve arrived, it will let you off the hook,’ Carly supplied drily.

‘Well, all this talk about engagements and weddings,’ he said. ‘Not my sort of thing at all, you know. They’ll start on christenings next, I dare say,’ he added with disfavour.

‘I can imagine.’ Carly slanted a smile at him. ‘Stay with your beloved plants, Dad. I’ll try and ensure you’re not missed.’