‘Hullo, darling,’ said a soft voice with an American accent in her ear.
She jumped like a startled horse and swung round. Her mouth was dry. The bottom seemed to fall out of her stomach as she looked into the bluest, most wicked eyes in the world.
‘Oh, baby,’ he said, taking her hands. ‘It’s so good to see you.’
‘Hullo, Steve,’ she croaked.
‘You made it. You really showed up. I can’t believe it. Come and sit down.’
Bella felt the years melt away. She was eighteen again.
‘We ought to celebrate by drinking that filthy sparkling hock which I always pretended to you was champagne.’
‘I’d like some whisky,’ said Bella stiffly.
‘Two double Scotches,’ Steve told the waiter.
He got out a packet of cigarettes and, as he lit hers, their fingers touched.
‘Oh, honey,’ he said. ‘You’ve grown so beautiful. Look at me properly.’
With a great effort she raised her eyes to his. How insane she’d been to think he’d have gone off. If anything he was better looking — more seasoned. He’d lost his peachy, open, golden-boy look. There were lines now, fanning out at the corners of his eyes, and his hair was brushed forward in a thick, blond fringe to cover lines that might have developed on his forehead.
She lowered her eyes.
‘I’ve looked for you everywhere,’ he went on, as their drinks arrived. ‘I wrote to Nalesworth over and over again, but they sent my letters back saying you’d gone away like a fox. I even went there to see if anyone had any news of you. Advertising in the personal columns was my last hope. What are you doing now — modelling?’
‘I’m an actress.’ She couldn’t keep the pride out of her voice as she told him how well she’d done.
Steve whistled. ‘You have gone places.’
‘And I’ve just had an audition with Harry Backhaus for the lead in his new film.’
Lay it on thick, she thought. Damn you, Steve. I can get along without you.
‘Darling, you’re a star! I must come and see the play. What name do you act under? Surely not Mabel Figge?’
‘No,’ said Bella in a strangled voice. ‘I. . I changed my name to Bella Parkinson.’
She noticed that he was wearing a very well-cut suit and heavy gold cuff-links.
‘You’ve made good too, Steve.’
He grinned. ‘Can’t complain. I’ve got a couple of clubs in Buenos Aires. One of the reasons I’m over here — apart from finding you, of course — is to find a site for a disco in London.’
He signalled to the waiter. ‘Let’s have another drink.’
‘Not for me,’ she said. ‘I can’t stay.’
But she didn’t move, and when the drinks came he raised his glass to her. ‘To us, baby.’
‘There isn’t going to be any “us”!’ she snapped. ‘I’ve got someone else.’
‘Did have, you mean. Who is he?’
Again the temptation to brag was too much.
‘You won’t know him. He’s called Rupert Henriques.’
Steve raised his eyebrows. ‘Not the banking family?’
Bella nodded defiantly.
‘Oh, sweetheart, you are piling yourself up riches on earth.’
‘You know him?’
‘I’ve run across his cousin, Lazlo, in Buenos Aires.’
‘Everyone seems to know him. Rupert adores him. What’s he like?’
‘Ruthless, rather sinister. A strange mixture. Half Jewish — his mother is some Austrian opera singer. The City don’t know what to make of him. They don’t approve of his long hair and all that scent he wears. But they have to admit he pulls off deals with a panache no-one else can equal. He’s got the kind of steel nerves that buys when the market’s down. And he owns some pretty good horses.’
‘Why isn’t he married?’
‘Doesn’t believe in it. I think he got very badly burnt over some married woman several years ago. Always has the most fantastic birds, though.’
There was a pause. Then Steve went on, ‘But it’s Rupert you’re keen on?’
‘Yes I am,’ said Bella quickly.
‘Then why did you come here today?’
‘I wanted to lay a ghost. Steve, I must go.’
How idiotic those monosyllables sounded. She had to go home, change and go out to dinner with the Henriques, but she couldn’t move.
‘Darling,’ Steve said softly, ‘I know I behaved like a heel, walking out on you when you most needed me. But I owed bread everywhere. I’d have been arrested if I’d stayed in Nalesworth any longer.’
‘And what about all those other girls every night?’ Impossible to keep the shrill hostility out of her voice.
‘I was too young to be tied down. I’ve grown up since then. I wouldn’t cheat on you now, if that’s what you’re thinking.’
But she was only conscious of his big, sexy body lounging beside her, and the fact that she wanted him as she’d never wanted anyone else.
‘You’re no good for me, Steve. I want to marry someone nice and stable.’
‘And I’m just nice,’ sighed Steve. ‘One has to specialize so young these days.’
He sat back and let one of his knees rub against hers. She jumped as though she’d touched a live wire.
‘My, but you’re edgy,’ he said.
She laughed nervously.
‘When did you develop that laugh?’
‘What laugh?’
He imitated it, and Bella laughed again out of nervousness.
‘Yeah, like that.’
‘You haven’t changed a bit,’ she stormed. ‘You always enjoyed sending me up.’
‘Your voice has changed too,’ he said. ‘Stage school certainly ironed out all the Yorkshire accent.’
As she leapt to her feet, he grabbed her.
‘Let go of my hand,’ she choked.
‘Come on honey, don’t be mad at me.’
‘Let me go,’ her voice rose.
‘Keep your voice down. Everyone’s looking at us. Oh, come on!’ He pulled her down beside him.
‘Don’t you understand! I’ve come thousands of miles to get you back. I’m the one who knows all about you, darling. I bet you haven’t told Baby Henriques about life in the slums and your jailbird father, have you?’
‘Shut up!’ spat Bella, turning white.
‘And that’s only the beginning, as you well know. Now finish up your drink like a good girl and I’ll drop you off wherever you want to go. But from tomorrow the heat’s on. I’m not going to let the Henriques get their hands on you. You don’t want to get mixed up with them, darling; you’re batting out of your league.’
As the taxi drove towards Chichester Terrace, Bella frantically combed her hair and re-did her face.
‘Stop fussing,’ said Steve.
‘But I’m so unsuitably dressed,’ wailed Bella. ‘I had this lovely little black dress.’
‘You’re an actress. The Henriques would be terribly disappointed if you turned up looking straight. Just tell them Harry Backhaus kept you for hours, and only just let you go.’
They were driving along the Old Brompton Road now, the cherry trees dazzling white against the darkening sky.
‘It’s spring,’ said Steve, taking her in his arms. ‘Can’t you feel the sap rising?’
For a moment she kissed him back, aware only of the appalling rightness of being in his arms.
‘Don’t go,’ he whispered.
‘No, Steve. For God’s sake!’ She pushed him violently away and sat back trembling, unable to speak until the taxi swung into Chichester Terrace.
He wrote her telephone number down on a cigarette packet.
‘Don’t lose it,’ she was furious to find herself saying. ‘I’m ex-directory. Oh God, you’ve sat on Rupert’s mother’s flowers.’
Chapter Five
As she stood in the road, watching the taxi carry him away, she was overwhelmed by desolation. She ran past the big, white houses, set back from the road, their gardens filled with early roses and azaleas. Then she came to the whitest and biggest of all. Two stone lions with sneering faces reared up on either side of the gate. A maid answered the door, but before she could take Bella’s coat Rupert rushed into the hall, his face white and drawn.