The Sister Secret Page 5

‘So what did he want?’

  Her father was sounding tough, but that was when Belvia found that she had the ability to lie her head off without blushing, if it was to shield her sister. To lie to her father to shield herself, she could not. ‘He wanted to speak to Josy—only I wouldn’t let him,’ she owned up—and brought his wrath down upon her head.

  ‘You wouldn’t let him?’ he raged. ‘Have you any idea what you’re messing with here—the jobs that will go to the wall if I have to close down? How dare you offend the one person who can get us out of the hole we’re in?’

  ‘He wasn’t offended!’ she defended. ‘Well, a little bit annoyed, perhaps,’ she had to concede. ‘But—’

  ‘But nothing. It doesn’t matter a damn to you, does it, that I might go out of business? That—’

  ‘Of course it matters.’

  ‘It sounds like it. Just because you have money of your own, everyone else can—’

  ‘You can have my money if you want it,’ Belvia cut in rashly before she could think.

  ‘And mine,’ Josy rushed in.

  Their offer stopped him dead in his tracks. But, inside a very few seconds, he was off again. ‘It’s too late for that now. I need more than the pair of you have put together. I could have had it too, if only you’d been more pleasant to Latham Tavenner. It’s just too bad of you, Belvia.’

  Belvia did not like his laying all the blame at her door, though she started to realise that there was no one else whom he could, or perhaps should, blame, ‘I’m sorry,’ she apologised—and brought more of his spleenishness down about her.

  ‘Sorry’s an empty word unless you intend to right the wrong,’ he told her heavily.

  ‘Right the wrong?’ she queried. ‘How can I do that? Latham Tavenner wants to date Josy, not me!’ She glanced at her twin, saw she was starting to look anxious again, and turned back to her father. ‘I don’t think Josy should have anything to do with him if she doesn’t w—’

  ‘You’re the one who messed things up! It wouldn’t hurt you to keep him sweet by ringing him and inviting him to dinner tomorrow.’

  Like blazes she would! Belvia had already mentally rejected his suggestion out of hand—and then she saw her father watching her as if to say, See how empty your ‘sorry’ is when put to the test. She remembered too how he had spoken of jobs going to the wall, his staff losing their jobs, their livelihoods, and if all she had to do to get him the investment he needed—for himself and his workers—was to invite Latham Tavenner to dinner tomorrow evening, then was it such a high price to pay?

  ‘He won’t come for me.’ Some stray strand of fear still held her back—though she was uncertain just then whether that fear was for Josy or for herself.

  ‘Then tell him it’s your sister’s wish that he join us for dinner.’ Her father at once knocked that argument away.

  ‘I’ve already told him Josy isn’t well. She won’t be well enough by tomorrow to cook him dinner,’ Belvia still prevaricated, and received one of her father’s bad-tempered looks for her trouble.

  ‘Well, for goodness’ sake invite him for some time this week!’ he bawled.

  Belvia refused to be cowed. ‘I don’t know his home phone number.’

  ‘I’ll give it to you,’ he replied, and took out his pen and a piece of paper from his diary, wrote the number down—then in angry silence finished his meal, and went out for the evening.

  It was time, Belvia well knew, for her again to put her money where her mouth was. ‘Is it all right with you if I ring Latham Tavenner?’ she asked Josy.

  ‘I don’t see that you’ve got very much choice,’ Josy replied bravely, and Belvia wondered if she would be putting too much pressure on her just now if she suggested that she would like her to think very seriously about the two of them leaving home in the near future.

  On the grounds that their father seemed to need their full support at present, she decided to say nothing for the moment. But she got up and helped Josy clear the table, growing more and more aware that, while support him she would, once this crisis at Fereday Products was resolved, she was going to take Josy from under his roof and find somewhere else to live.

  ‘Do you think you should ring him now?’ Josy asked anxiously, once everything had been tidied up.

  Had it been up to her she would never ring him, so why, when it was not for herself, did her insides feel like so much jelly as she dialled his number and waited, and waited? ‘He’s not in,’ she reported to her sister, while trying to hide the mixed emotions she felt about that.

  Suddenly though, just as she was about to put down the phone, an unmistakably all-male voice said, ‘Hello,’ in her ear—and her insides went all of a tremble.

  ‘Oh, hello,’ she answered, relieved to find that her voice sounded remarkably light. ‘I was beginning to think you weren’t in.’

  ‘What can I do for you?’ he asked, apparently recognising her voice at once, for he did not ask her who it was.

  ‘I—um...’ God, she felt all of a lather. ‘I wondered if you’d like to come to dinner on Saturday.’ She pulled herself sharply together and got the invitation out—and had to wait an agonising number of embarrassed seconds while he chewed her invitation over.

  ‘Let me get this straight,’ he queried, as if he was not quite comprehending what she had said, when she knew full well he had been at the forefront of the queue when intelligence had been given out, ‘you’re asking me to dine with you this coming Saturday?’

  Say no, she silently begged, say you’ve got a previous engagement. ‘My family would like you to dine with us—I’m their spokeswoman,’ she replied, hoping he’d use some of that vast supply of intelligence she had credited him with to realise that for herself she’d starve rather than sit at the same table with him ever again.

  ‘Josy—if she’s better—she’ll be there?’

  Most peculiarly, Belvia found his question had reached her sense of humour. ‘Er—if she’s better,’ she agreed.

  ‘And—what about you?’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘I understood you were having an affair with a married man?’

  There was suddenly such a toughness in his tone that Belvia at that moment knew that anyone who ever crossed this man would live to regret it. But she banished such thoughts. She had not crossed him—well, not to any great degree, anyhow—and, to get back to his statement, she guessed she only had herself to blame that he thought she was having an affair. Had she not said in front of him last Friday—flippantly into the bargain—that after dinner was the only time her date could get away from his wife?

  She could, Belvia supposed, have owned up that she was not involved with any married man. But Latham Tavenner seemed to bring out the worst in her—and instead she found herself stating, ‘I cancelled my date for Saturday when my father said it would be more agreeable for you if we were four at dinner.’

  ‘You shouldn’t have cancelled your date on my account,’ he retorted sharply. ‘You must have enough restrictions on the time available to meet your lover behind his wife’s back.’

  ‘That’s true!’ she retaliated, then caught sight of Josy, looking at her as if to say she was not going about getting him to accept her invitation in a very polite tone. But by then Belvia was well and truly upset by one Latham Tavenner, and demanded, ‘Are you coming or not?’

  ‘Get your sister to give me a ring!’ he snarled—Belvia had an idea that they both slammed down the phone at the same time.

  For two seconds more she fumed about the ghastly rattlesnake of a man—and then became aware of Josy watching her, all large-eyed and fearing the worst. Belvia forgot her anger with the financier to tell her, ‘I—blew it!’

  ‘Oh, heavens—Father will be livid! What did Mr Tavenner say?’

  How to tell her? There was no way, Belvia realised, in which she could dress it up. ‘He—wants you to phone him,’ she said in a rush. And, as Josy lost some of the little colour she had, ‘But you don’t have to,’ she told her fi
rmly.

  Josy stared at her and, Belvia realised, was patently remembering their father’s attitude, his anger over dinner, and, ‘Yes, I do,’ she answered quietly.

  ‘Well, not tonight you don’t,’ Belvia stated quickly, even as she said it wondering if she was right to get her sister to put off making a phone call that to anyone else might be a simple phone call, but which just thinking about would give her sister nightmares. ‘Although it might be better out of the way.’

  ‘I’ll sleep on it,’ Josy replied, clearly shrinking from having anything to do with the self-assured man.

  Belvia was hating Latham Tavenner with a vengeance as she lay sleepless in her bed that night. When, however, fairness tried to nudge its honest way in—it was hardly his fault because, but for the Feredays needing to keep him sweet because they were after his money, they need have nothing to do with him—Belvia ousted such unwanted honesty. He was at fault. Of course, he had no idea of the dreadful tragedy that had befallen Josy when her husband had been killed, but that did not make it any better. He must have seen for himself how withdrawn Josy was before Belvia had told him of her sister’s extreme shyness. Yet now he was waiting for Josy to telephone him—he wanted hanging up by his ears!

  At that moment visions of Latham Tavenner’s quite nice ears sprang into Belvia’s mind out of nowhere—as, too, did a remembered image of his good-looking, if arrogant, face. Good grief, she fumed, and buried her head under the bedclothes—as if to escape him.

  But there was no escape from him the next day. It started at breakfast. ‘Did you ring Latham Tavenner last night?’ her father asked, when she had barely sat down at the breakfast-table.

  ‘I did.’

  ‘And?’

  Belvia avoided looking at her sister. ‘Nothing’s been settled yet.’ Her father was waiting for more. ‘But it will be before dinner-time on Saturday.’

  ‘See that it is,’ he grunted, then finished his breakfast in stony silence, and left for his office.

  ‘You might like to give thought to you and me moving out from this house—once Father’s got his loan,’ Belvia blurted out to Josy, this time too upset by her father’s manner to hold her thoughts back.

  ‘I couldn’t do that!’ Josy gasped.

  ‘You know, you could, love,’ Belvia argued gently. ‘We could find a small flat somewhere, and—’

  ‘But what about Father—who’d look after him?’

  ‘He’s big enough to look after himself, and, if he isn’t, he can jolly well pay a housekeeper.’

  ‘I—couldn’t, Bel—not now...’

  ‘Well, don’t fret about it. It was just an idea.’ Belvia smiled—and hoped that, now the idea had been planted, perhaps as the days and weeks went on her sister might grow to the idea.

  It was early afternoon when Belvia went up to the stables to exercise Hetty. She had said not a word to Josy about the fact that there was a phone call to one Latham Tavenner outstanding, but toyed seriously with the notion of dialling his number and saying that her sister had been called away for a few days and had asked her to ring. She would say that Josy would be back by Saturday, she decided, warming to the idea, and then again ask him to dinner.

  She had it all worked out by the time she had returned home, and went looking for Josy. She found her in the sitting-room—and one look at her face was enough to tell her that something was wrong.

  ‘What’s happened?’ she asked, going quickly over to her.

  ‘I rang him.’

  Belvia did not need two guesses. ‘At his work?’ she enquired, realising that it must have taken a great deal of courage for Josy to do that.

  ‘I thought I was leaving much too much to you, so I...’

  ‘Oh, love,’ Belvia murmured.

  ‘Anyhow, to be honest, it was with the bright idea in my head that if I rang Latham Tavenner at his office, he wouldn’t have time to take my call and I could leave a message to say I’d rung, and...’

  ‘And you’d be absolved from ringing him again?’ Belvia took up.

  ‘Only it wasn’t such a bright idea as I thought it was, because after his PA had taken my name he came on the line—and I nearly died.’

  ‘Never mind—you did it, and it’s all over now,’ Belvia comforted. Somehow, though, she saw no relief in Josy’s expression that, her call made, she could forget about him until Saturday. ‘Was he very much of a brute to you?’ she asked, sorely wanting to set about him.

  ‘No, not really. In fact, I suppose you could say that, given he was firm, his tone was quite kind.’

  Kind! She would never associate him with ‘kind’! ‘Er—what was he firm about?’ Belvia asked, a little puzzled. ‘You mean he gave you a firm yes about coming to dinner on Saturday?’

  Josy shook her lovely head. ‘He was firm about not coming here to dinner,’ she replied, her voice starting to break, ‘but he suggested, since I’d cooked dinner for him the last time, that I must go to his place for dinner this time.’

  ‘You’re not going!’ In a flash Belvia was up in arms, whether her sister thought she was going or not, making that decision for her. ‘No way are you going!’ she added forcefully.

  ‘But, Bel, I’ve got to. You heard Father...’

  ‘You’ve got to do nothing of the sort!’ Belvia would not hear of it, and as she began to cope with the initial shock of Latham Tavenner’s invitation to her sister continued, ‘Was the invitation for you alone? Not you and Father?’ she queried, not needing to enquire if she was excluded—that was a foreknown fact.

  ‘Just me. He made that plain. I shall have to go!’ Josy cried in panic. ‘If I don’t, Father will have to close down, and all those people will be put out of work, and—’

  ‘And leave it with me. I’ll think of something,’ Belvia promised—and had until Saturday to come up with something brilliant.

  * * *

  By Saturday their father had been acquainted with the fact that Josy had been invited to dine with Latham Tavenner in his London flat. Edwin Fereday seemed much pleased by this news—so much so that, for the moment, and in the interests of a pleasant home-life, Belvia thought it better not to disillusion him. Latham Tavenner had suggested he would send a car for Josy, but she had said she would drive herself. But, Belvia fumed, over her dead body would Josy be dining with him alone in his flat or with him anywhere else.

  Though how to get her out of it? Belvia thought up plenty of ideas, but none which could not be overcome. Josy’s car could break down—Latham would send a car for her. Belvia thought perhaps she could ring him and say that it really was not on for him to expect Josy when she had told him herself of her extreme shyness—to which of course he might answer, ‘Fine,’ which would mean that not only would they never see or hear from him again but—immediately losing his ‘in’ with him—neither would their father.

  ‘I shall have to go,’ Josy said worriedly after lunch on Saturday.

  Belvia did not need to ask, Go where? ‘Where’ was to the forefront of both their minds. ‘I’ve told you you’re not going,’ she reiterated, and remembering that, although Josy was terrified of him, she had thought him kind, Belvia realised her only hope lay in hoping Josy had got that bit right—she would appeal to his kindness. ‘I’ve decided to give him a ring and to ask if he’ll see me. Then I’ll explain that because—because you’ve recently suffered a great sadness in your—’

  ‘You won’t tell him about Marc!’ Josy exclaimed, tears rushing to her eyes.

  ‘Oh, love, would you mind so much?’ In an instant Belvia was by her side, an arm about her shoulders.

  ‘He’d tell Father—I couldn’t take him ridiculing...’

  ‘Shh, it’s all right, don’t worry.’ Belvia calmed her. To her mind it had seemed a good, if not the only, option. If Latham had half the honour he was said to possess, then surely he would be appalled to know that he was not just trying to get on better terms with a very attractive woman, but was in fact causing more distress to an already distressed
and grieving widow. ‘I’ll ring him anyway and ask if he’d mind seeing me,’ Belvia determined.

  ‘With what in mind?’

  Belvia tried to bring all the confidence which she was far from feeling into her smile. And, having already told Latham Tavenner of her sister’s shyness, she stated, ‘I’ll impress on him how shy you are, how—um—difficult you find it to make new friends.’

  ‘Do you think that will be enough?’

  ‘We can give it a try,’ Belvia replied brightly. ‘Somehow I’ll get him to leave you alone.’ She went at once to the phone and dialled—and found he was not in.

  From then she rang his number every half-hour, but there was still no reply. Damn him, she started to fume. As someone expecting a dinner guest that evening, he should at this very moment be slaving away over a hot stove!

  Suddenly the minute hand on the clock seemed fairly to race round. Belvia tried Latham Tavenner’s number once more and knew, when there was again no reply, that she had only one option left. She, as she had done before, was going to have to turn up, unwanted and unasked, in her sister’s place. She went upstairs to bath and change.

  ‘I feel dreadful letting you do this for me,’ Josy fretted when, with Belvia already running late, she went out to the car with her.

  ‘Just keep out of Father’s way if he comes home early—which I doubt. He’ll never know which one of us went.’ Belvia smiled, and started up her car—her insides filled with dread. She did not need a barrow-load of premonition to know that there would be no welcome awaiting her.

  With her thoughts varied—frequently panicky, less frequently calm—she somehow made it without mishap to the impressive building where Latham Tavenner had his apartment. And, having parked her car, she entered the well-lighted building to find her way blocked by a uniformed commissionaire.

  ‘I’ve an engagement with Mr Tavenner,’ she smiled prettily to tell him.

  He had seen it all before, and smiled back. ‘May I have your name, madam?’

  ‘Fereday. B... Miss Fereday.’

  Her insides were behaving no better than they had been before when she sailed up in the lift and got out where she had been directed. Oh, how she wished that this were all over and that she was on her way back home!