Dead Man's Dinner - Una Gordon Page 0,12
generous, but she was not prepared to wait until then – or at least her mother wasn't. He had quickly learned that Penelope was simply a kind of puppet who performed when her mother pulled the strings and only then. He had tried to talk to Penelope, but without her mother to guide her, she was like a ship without a rudder. In the end he had given up and told Penelope to tell any story she liked, but he could not marry her. The fury and exhortations of her mother had only strengthened his resolve not to marry Penelope even if the continuation of the human race depended on it.
He had not felt proud of himself after that episode and his confidence in his judgement of women took a further knock, but then, at that point, he had never been in love.
As he had looked at Fiona that lunchtime he had warmed to her company and wondered if he should try to oust Hal Burton in the marriage stakes. He had a sudden mental image of fighting a duel with Hal. He had smiled at the thought, then suddenly realised Fiona was saying something about Hal being in the United States. Not having heard clearly what she said, he asked, “You mean he's there now?”
“Yes, he left last night for three weeks – a lecture tour – on his latest book about famous cases.” She chattered on, elaborating on what Hal was to be lecturing about. She had told him earlier that she had changed her job, was now working in research and had more regular hours. His mind, by this time, was doing mental gymnastics, rearranging his schedule which had not, in practice, turned out to be easy. He had had to make some very spurious excuses which had been accepted, he knew, only because he was usually so reliable.
“I'm to be in London quite a bit over the next three weeks,” he lied, thinking of what he'd have to do to make this a reality. “If you're not too busy, perhaps I could take you out to dinner or to a theatre.”
He waited, sensing Fiona was weighing up the situation, looking at him as he tried to appear as casual as possible.
“That would be nice,” she said eventually and he could not decide whether she was just being polite or if she really meant it.
The dinners and theatre visits had multiplied and they had seen each other on every possible occasion. There had been no question of love making, not even a kiss. He could almost feel the delicacy of the situation between them – sometimes she seemed to swim into his orbit – at other times she became distant and he would have given a great deal to know what was going on in her mind. He wanted her as he had never wanted a woman before, but the gossamer thread which held her tenuously to him could so easily be broken, so he took no chances. Hal would soon be back and Gresham felt the presence of Hal would be rather more difficult to deal with than his absence. How keen was she on Hal? Did he, Gresham, stand a chance at all? He toyed with the idea of declaring his love, but he felt it was such an all or nothing situation he dared not. He met her for their last evening together, still uncertain. They were going to a theatre to see a comedy which Fiona specially wanted to see and he had chosen an exclusive restaurant nearby in which to dine so that there was only a short walk to the theatre. When they came out of the restaurant it was pouring down and Fiona's flimsy shoes and jacket were little protection. Even in the few yards they had to walk she'd be soaked. They stood on the pavement under the canopy of he restaurant, unsure what to do. He said he'd get a taxi and she said it wasn't worth it. At that point a passing motorist unaware of their dilemma and conscious only of his desire to meet his girlfriend on time, sped past them, showering both of them with muddy water, sent flying by his impatient tyres. Fiona and Gresham looked at each other for a second in dismay, then she started to laugh – that laugh which had so attracted him at their first meeting.
“Look, we can hardly go to the theatre like this. Shall I call a