Roberta Leigh - Pretence Read online

  Ann remembered these words a few days later when Rosalie Donalds came into the office. The change in her was marked. Her step was buoyant and she radiated a happiness that gave her pointed face a charm it had never possessed before. Watching her, Ann felt a twinge of envy; Miss Donalds was in love, there was no doubt about that.

  "Oh, Miss Lester, I can't thank you enough. I went to see Mr. Mallison last Monday and I'm almost sure it's the real thing."

  "That's marvellous. No complaints at all?"

  "Not from me." The girl sighed ecstatically. "I think he's wonderful. He wants to know everything about me— I've never talked so much in my life. When I first met him I was too frightened to say a word, but he's so clever that in next to no time I felt I'd known him for years. I'm sure he feels the same way—he hasn't said anything, mind you, but it's the way he behaves."

  Ann cleared her throat. "Have you seen a lot of him?"

  "Every night this week. One night we went to the Ritz and the next week to the Palladium—front stalls too. Afterwards I took him back to my room for coffee because he wanted to see where I lived. And the next day he sent me round a little armchair so that I'd have something comfortable to sit on. He's so thoughtful, Miss Lester, so kind." She drew a rapid breath. "I do hope he's serious. I know I'm not like the girls he's usually seen with. I'm not sophisticated or beautiful or—"

  "He doesn't want anyone sophisticated," Ann broke in. "Take it from me, you're the type he asked for."

  "I can't think why he ever came to a marriage bureau at all. It was different for me. Aunt and I lived in a small cottage miles from anywhere!"

  "Is she still alive?"

  "Oh yes." Rosalie looked down at her hands and the words came out in a rush. "I know it was wicked of me, but I ran away. If I hadn't I'd have been stuck there for life. I was ever so miserable the first week I was in London, and when I saw Miss McBride's advertisement it seemed like the answer to a prayer."

  "I think it might very well be." Ann's green eyes sparkled. "Tell me, when you are you seeing Mr. Mallison again?"

  "Tonight. I'm seeing Jack Addams for tea, though. He's on his way to Ireland to see some relations and wants us to get engaged first."

  "And will you?"

  "I don't think so. Not as long as there's a chance for me and Paul." Rosalie sighed deeply. "Sometimes I think I'll wake up and find it's all a dream. You've no idea how important he is."

  "I certainly have," Ann said drily. "I know someone who took the lead in a couple of his plays."

  "He's writing a new one now. He won't tell me what it's about, but he said I've been his inspiration. Fancy me being anybody's inspiration!" Rosalie stood up. "I'd best be going now or I'll be late. I'll give you a ring as soon as I know what's happening."

  The door closed and Ann lit a cigarette and mused on the irony of a fate that enabled Rosalie Donalds to meet a man like Paul Mallison. What wouldn't she herself have given to meet him, to get a part in one of his plays? Laurie had often mentioned his name. She frowned. What had her father said of him? A brilliant writer who had become a cynic too young. Perhaps that was why he had wanted to meet a girl like Rosalie. It would be interesting to see how it ended. From all the data they had in the books, Jack Addams was more her type, yet Paul Mallison obviously exerted a far greater influence.

  Rosalie did not telephone the office as she had promised, but Ann, preparing for Marty's return, was too busy to notice. On the last Monday in July, Marty came back from convalescence, and watching her take her place at the desk Ann knew a pang of real regret.

  "I'm going to miss all this," she said, her hand sweeping a circle in the air. "It's been an eye-opener working here."

  "I'm sure it has." Mary looked speculative. "You've done very well too. Almost beaten my record, in fact. It must be your charm, or perhaps you were here during the marrying months!"

  "I'd rather you put it down to charm, darling. And there might even be one more success to chalk up. Miss Donalds looks like naming the day!"

  "I can't believe it!"

  "It's true, though. Paul Mallison seems to have done the trick."

  "Mallison?" Marty sat up straight. "Don't tell me you sent her to him?"

  "Shouldn't I have? Peggy showed me his name on the books and—"

  "No, no, it's all right. It's just that I had some doubts about him."

  "Well, you needn't have. He's the Paul Mallison all right."

  "I never questioned that," Marty said drily. "What I did doubt was his reason for coming here. It didn't ring true to me and I meant to check on it. I completely overlooked it in the rush of going to hospital."

  "You've nothing to worry about. Wait till you see Miss Donalds' face—she's transformed."

  "I'd like nothing better than to get her fixed up. If only—" Marty stopped speaking as Peggy put her head round the door.

  "Miss Donalds is outside," she whispered. "Says it's urgent she sees you."

  Ann jumped up. "There! What did I tell you? Show her in, Peggy. I'm dying to hear her news."

  The moment Rosalie Donalds came over the threshold it was obvious something was wrong. Gone was the look of expectancy, the happy awareness of being wanted. Instead she seemed old and tired, her face pinched and her eyes red-rimmed.

  Marty looked at the two girls and decided this was where she took over. "Hello, Miss Donalds, nice to see you again. How have you been keeping?"

  "Not too bad, thank you." Rosalie sat on the edge of a chair and twisted her gloves in her hands. "I'm glad you're better now. Miss Lester told me—told me—" The pale mouth trembled and she buried her head in her hands. "Oh, Miss McBride, I'm so miserable I wish I were dead! I never thought it would be like this—never! Never!"

  Ann took a step forward, but Marty was there first, her arm across the heaving shoulders. "Tell me about it. I'm sure it can't be as bad as all that."

  "It is—it is! I've never felt so ashamed in my life."

  "Tell me. I can't help you unless I know."

  Slowly at first, then more quickly as the sobs subsided, Rosalie's story came out. After she had seen Jack off to Ireland she had gone straight to Paul. He had been as attentive as ever and during the week had suggested they spend the week-end in the country with some friends. Believing that he had made up his mind about her, she had willingly gone.

  "Don't tell me he made a pass at you?" Ann said.

  "Oh, no, nothing like that! We stayed with Cora and Edmund Rees at their house in Surrey, and there was everybody there—everybody in the stage world, I mean. They just couldn't have been nicer. I see now why they were," Rosalie said bitterly. "I bet they knew all the time why Paul was seeing me. He told me the reason when he brought me home last night." The soft voice was almost inaudible. "There was no longer any need for him to pretend, you see. He'd got all the information he wanted."

  Ann and Marty looked at one another.

  "What information?"

  "About the sort of girl I am and why I had to go to a marriage bureau to find a husband." Rosalie's face crumpled. "His play's about a misfit, a girl who's so plain and dull that no man wants her. That's why she has to go to an agency." The tears fell faster. "I've never felt so awful in my life. When he told me the truth I suddenly saw myself as I really was, p-plain and ugly and stupid."

  Aim sat down abruptly, so full of anger that she was unable to speak. It was left to Marty to intervene.

  "There's no point in crying about it, my dear. There's always Mr. Addams. From what I can remember of him, he was a very nice young man."

  Rosalie's sobs increased. "I haven't got Jack any more either! He met someone in Ireland and they're going to be married right away!"

  "What horrible luck!" Ann raised her eyebrows to Marty and then moved her chair closer to Rosalie. "But you've got to look at it this way. If you'd really wanted Jack you could have been married to him by now and there'd have been no Mr. Mallison to upset things. It's not a nice thing to happen, but at the worst you're back where you started
from."

  "I liked Paul," Rosalie sniffed. "I think I was in love with him."

  "If you have to use the word think, you couldn't have been in love."

  Gently, humorously, Ann continued to talk, giving the girl time to recover, and after some moments Rosalie blew her nose and took out her compact.

  "I must look a frightful sight. I'm sorry I broke down, but I was so mortified." She dabbed powder on her nose. "I don't think I want to meet anyone again."

  "Don't give in like that," urged Marty. "We'll find you someone else."

  "I couldn't face it. It wasn't your fault. You've tried your best for me, but—"

  "Then stick with us a bit longer," Ann interrupted. "You're bound to be lucky the third time."

  Rosalie shook her head, her face pale and determined. "It was a judgment on me; I know it was. I should never have left my aunt with no one to look after her."

  "If you feel that way," Marty said, "there's nothing I can say. But at least you must take back the fee."

  It was not until they were alone again that Marty showed her feelings. "I knew I was right! I knew it all along! I'll never forgive myself for not checking his references."

  "It isn't your fault," Ann said slowly. "Besides, his references would have been all right."

  "But if I'd gone into it further. I always do whenever I have any doubt. I should have gone to see the man in his home, talked to him again and tried to find out what he really wanted."

  "He'd never have told you his reasons for coming here."

  "Maybe not, but if I'd given him some idea of why people come to us—I'm sure he went into this without thinking what effect it might have on the other person."

  Ann did not reply, for privately she doubted the truth of Marty's remark. From the little she knew of Paul Mallison she could well imagine that nothing could dissuade him from his purpose, particularly if that purpose involved acquiring information for a play.

  Marty lit a cigarette and puffed out a cloud of smoke. "Nothing like this has ever happened before. And to Miss Donalds of all people! She'll just go back to her aunt and vegetate in misery."

  "She might have done that in any case."

  "But now I feel responsible for it!"

  "Did you interview Mr. Mallison yourself when he came here?"

  "Yes. He sprung me a story about wanting to meet a nice simple girl who hadn't been around much. Naturally I was a bit surprised, but I put his name down and said I'd see what I could do."

  "And then what?"

  "I did nothing about it. After he left I thought it over and felt there was something odd about the whole thing. I decided to go and see him again before I introduced him to anyone on our books. Then I had to go into the hospital and the whole thing slipped my mind. He even rang me once to say he was getting desperate and could I do anything about it?" She smiled grimly. "I thought perhaps he had marriage in mind after all, but I see now he was only concerned with getting material for his play." She picked up the telephone. "By the time I've finished with him he'll be too scared to have it produced!"

  "Marty, don't!" Ann put her hand over the telephone. "It won't do any good. What Mallison needs is a taste of his own medicine."

  Marty's eyes narrowed. "You say that as if you've something in mind."

  "I have." Ann stood up and sauntered elegantly across the room. "What do you think of my looks?"

  "You don't need me to tell you: you're conceited enough!"

  Ann smiled. "Let's say we both agree I'm not too bad. Now, I'm going to show the sort of actress I am."

  "You're not going to see Mallison and pretend you're me?"

  "I'm not that good," Ann riposted. "But I do intend to go and see him."

  "What for? I don't like the look on your face, my dear. What do you intend to do?"

  "I'm going to call on our dear playwright and pretend I'm looking for a husband." Ann's head tilted. "Mr. Mallison managed to get rid of Rosalie, but he's going to find it much more difficult to get rid of me!"

  CHAPTER TWO

  HAMPSTEAD MEWS, where Paul Mallison lived, was a cul-de-sac of tall, narrow houses overlooking the Heath: a quiet corner close to the High Street, yet seeming far away from the hurly-burly of everyday life.

  Outside the gate of number three Ann hesitated. Even now she had formulated no plan as to how she was going to make Paul Mallison fall in love with her: if he refused to see anyone from the McBride Agency she was back where she started.

  She walked up a path bordered with geraniums and lobelia to the black-painted door with its brass bell-pull, but as her hand was lifted to ring she hesitated. She had never particularly cared to fight for the underdog: brought up in a home that lacked nothing materially, she had felt no urge to place herself in the position of the underprivileged, and honesty forced her to admit that if Rosalie's tormentor had been anyone other than Paul Mallison, she might not have been so eager to take up the cudgels in her defence. Curiosity and a desire to see for herself this man whom her father had known so well had brought her to a position where she either had to go on with her deception or call an immediate halt.

  Moistening her lips, she took a backward step down the path and was half-way to the gate when the front door opened and a fluffy-haired woman in a white overall called out to her.

  "Excuse me, miss! Were you wanting anyone?"

  Ann turned scarlet. "I-er—————- "

  "If you're from the Agency you'd better come in."

  Ann was startled into speech. "Were you expecting me?"

  "I didn't know it was going to be you," the woman said sagely, "but I knew it was going to be someone. Do come in quickly, he's waiting."

  She ushered Ann into a square hall with a black and white marble floor and knocked on a door at the far end. "A young lady to see you, sir."

  "Show her in, Smithie," said a deep voice, and Ann stepped into a sitting-room with a flowered French carpet and several large easy chairs. Her first impression was of light and airiness, for the walls were white and through the windows overlooking the back garden streamed the early afternoon sunshine. Directly in front of her, at a desk, sat the owner of the voice .

  "Well, don't stand there," it said irritably. "Come over here where I can see you and give me your references, please."

  Ann stared at him in surprise. "I haven't got any."

  "Then what's the point in coming? I distinctly said I wouldn't consider anyone without references. It's sheer waste of time."

  "I might be wasting my time too." Ann's temper flared. "What about your references?"

  "Are you out of your mind?" Anger brought him to the other side of the desk, his thin body outlined by the sun, his hair, black and straight, falling forward over his forehead. "I've dealt with a few people in my time," he said icily, "but never had a secretary ask to see my references."

  Suddenly realizing what had happened, Ann turned her head away to hide a smile.

  "There's obviously no point in prolonging this interview," Mallison said coldly. "Be good enough to close the door on your way out."

  Ann moved nearer. "There's been a misunderstanding, I'm afraid. I'm not from a secretarial agency, I'm from the McBride Marriage Bureau."

  "Good lord!" Paul Mallison stared at her, his thick eyebrows drawing together in a frown. "But you can't be—you're not the type I'd asked for!"

  "Perhaps you'd like to ring the bureau and check?"

  "No, no, it's just that you're so much prettier—" A flicker of a smile crossed his face. "This is ridiculous— they should should have taken my name off the books."

  "It's not my fault if they didn't," Ann said stiffly. "I was told to come here because they said you wanted— you wanted—this is awfully embarrassing for me, Mr. Mallison, but I'm sure you know the reason I'm here."

  Again the eyebrows drew together. "It's just as awkward for me, Miss—"

  "Lester," Ann said quickly. "Ann Lester."

  "Thank you. I'm afraid it's too late, Miss Lester. I'm no longer
looking for a wife."

  "But they said you were!"

  "I can't help that, I've decided I'd rather be single. I'm sorry you've had a wasted journey, but it would have been wiser if you'd telephoned first. Now, if you'll excuse me I've a lot of work to do."

  He turned his back as if to indicate that the interview was over and Ann lowered her head. If she left now there'd be no chance of seeing him again. She twisted her hands and the gesture brought Rosalie Donalds to mind. Her mouth tightened and she got to her feet.

  "You can't send me away! If you do I'll complain."

  He turned round in amazement. "It won't do any good. I've already tried to make it clear to you that I've changed my mind. I'm sorry, Miss Lester, but that's putting it bluntly."

  "It certainly is."

  "If you could find your own way out… I'm rather busy."

  Ann hesitated, wondering whether there was anything else she could say or do that would make him look up from his work long enough to see her as a person, and not just an irritant conjured up from a past action already regretted.

  "I won't disturb you any more," she said faintly, and moved to the door. Half-way across the room she stopped, swaying slightly as she put her hands to her head.

  "The room—it's going round. I—I'm afraid I'm—" With a sigh she sank gracefully to the carpet, remembering to keep her body limp, her eyes closed.

  "What on earth's the matter now?"

  Ann kept her eyes closed and did not reply. She heard him push his chair back and stride over to her. There was a pause as he bent down and stared into her face, then he straightened and hurried to the door.

  "Smithie!" he called. 'The smelling salts—quick!"

  He came back and Ann felt herself being lifted and placed gently on a settee. There was a strange smell under her nose and liquid was forced down her throat. She gasped, spluttered and sat up.

  "Where am I?" She looked round the room and sank back again. "Oh, Mr. Mallison, I'm sorry, forgive me."

  "There's nothing to forgive. Do you often faint like that?"

  "No. When I'm well I never faint. It's because I haven't—haven't eaten, that's why. If you could let me have a cup of tea…" The fluffy-haired woman hurried out and Ann sighed. "I'm sorry about this. Perhaps I'd better explain."