Knight To The Rescue

It was amazing how ten hours’ delay could undermine one’s resolve. By the time Audrey reached for her bedside phone early that evening her hand was literally shaking. Snatching it back, she sank down on her quilt and stared once again at the open telephone directory on her pillow, at the circled name.

KNIGHT E H. The only E Knight in the book living in the suburb of Avalon. It had to be him.

Taking another fortifying breath and trying to steady her hand, she reached for and picked up the phone, punching in the numbers with sharp, staccato movements. The nerve-racking brr-brr started on the other end of the line.

Would he be home at six on a Monday night? Audrey thought anxiously as the ringing continued. She had reasoned he should be. It was too early to go out to dinner and late enough to have come home if he’d gone out for the day. It was dark at six in July in Sydney, winter well and truly set in. With each successive ring, her agitation increased. One part of her wanted him to answer. The other hoped he’d gone to Switzerland for the rest of the winter.

On the seventh ring, someone answered.

Audrey held her breath.

A male voice repeated the number she had just rung.

She expelled the held breath in a rush. ‘El...Elliot?’

There was a short sharp silence that sent Audrey’s tension up and off the scale.

‘Audrey? Is that you?’ he questioned with a manner that suggested he was not pleased she had rung.

This was no less than she had expected. ‘Yes, it’s me,’ she said, and fell painfully silent.

‘Well?’ he prodded at last. ‘What can I do for you?’ His tone was cool and she suddenly realised she was about to make a big fool of herself. Yet to fail was unthinkable. She just couldn’t face Lavinia with the news that Elliot wasn’t coming.

‘I...I have this problem.’

‘Yes?’

God, he wasn’t making it easy for her, was he?

More feelings of pre-emptive failure flooded in, totally swamping her. He was going to say no. Why should she humiliate herself by asking in the first place?

Her heart turned over in wild desolation. If only she were beautiful and sexy. If only Elliot wasn’t rich, and needed her money—like Russell. If only there were some way she could make him genuinely want to come.

‘You...you said I could call if I needed help.’

‘Yes?’

‘I...I do.’

‘In what way?’

Audrey took a deep breath. And the plunge. ‘Remember I mentioned I was turning twenty-one soon? Well, it’s this Friday and Lavinia has organised a special dinner party for me that evening here, at home. I was going to bring Russell, you see, and now I don’t have anyone to be my date and I thought that...that... Well, I hoped you might fill in in Russell’s absence.’

She held her breath and waited for his answer.

‘I thought I made it clear, Audrey,’ he ground out, ‘that I’m not in the market for filling in for Russell, in any capacity.’

Audrey was glad Elliot couldn’t see the heat zooming into her cheeks. She wished he hadn’t used quite those words. It sent the most amazingly explicit and arousing images to her mind.

‘Isn’t there anyone else you can invite?’ His tone was frustrated. ‘Someone your own age?’

‘Not really,’ she replied, making a huge effort to get a hold of herself. ‘No one I’d be proud of. And Elliot, I want to be proud of my date, don’t you see? It’s...it’s very important to me.’ Audrey knew this final plea was hitting below the belt. Out of desperation she was deliberating playing on Elliot’s capacity for compassion.

His sigh was one of weary resignation. ‘Yes, I do see. Unfortunately... Very well, Audrey. Give me your address and tell me what time I’m expected. And perhaps your last name might be a good idea. I never did find that out.’

Success brought both triumph and a measure of agitation. He was coming. He was actually coming. Shivers of unbidden excitement ran up and down her spine.

Audrey somehow managed to give him her home address at Newport, her full name of Audrey Henrietta Farnsworth, as well as her phone number—just in case a disaster prevented his coming. But please, lord, no disasters, she prayed!

‘Could you be here soon after seven?’ she requested breathlessly. ‘We’re having drinks before dinner. Oh, and wear a dinner-jacket. It’s formal.’

When he hesitated again, she said worriedly, ‘You do have a dinner-jacket, don’t you?’

There was a smile in his voice when he answered. ‘Yes, Audrey, I have a dinner-jacket.’

‘I thought you might. Considering...’

‘Considering what?’

‘Considering you’re rich and...well...obviously given to socialising.’

‘I haven’t been doing much of that lately,’ he muttered. ‘Perhaps I should have. And what are you going to wear, Audrey? Does formal mean a long dress?’

‘Long dresses are out at the moment. Calf-length are in. I’m not sure what I’ll wear yet. I was going to go shopping with Lavinia on Thursday after work. I’ll probably end up buying something glitzy. Lavinia says glitz is definitely in.’ Audrey stopped to draw breath. She knew she was babbling, but nerves affected her that way sometimes.

‘Has it ever occurred to you that what’s in might not suit you?’ came his drawled remark. ‘Or that Lavinia might choose something that suits her, not you?’

‘Yes,’ she confessed. ‘That has ocurred to me, actually.’

‘Well, why not buy something all by yourself, something you like?’

This idea still flustered her, because she truly had no confidence where her own taste was concerned. ‘I’d like to,’ she said unhappily. ‘The trouble is I...I’m never sure what to buy. The sales ladies tell you everything looks nice and in the end I feel totally confused. I bought an evening dress by myself not long ago and Lavinia said it was a disaster. Totally lifeless and dreary on me.’

‘What colour was it?’

‘Plain cream, in a sort of silk material.’

‘And the style?’

‘Nothing spectacular. Long tight sleeves, fitted bodice, boat neck, lowish back. The skirt flares out.’

‘Do you still have it?’

‘Y...yes, but—’

‘Let me make a suggestion,’ he cut in forcibly. ‘Wear it! Cream sounds a perfect colour for you. Put your hair up and wear plain gold earrings. No other jewellery, not even a watch. Neutral shades around your eyes. Plenty of blusher. Bronze lipstick and nail polish. Got that?’

‘Well, yes...but...but...what are you,’ she asked with a nervous laugh, ‘an expert on women’s fashions?’

‘No. An expert on women.’

Her heart skipped a beat. She didn’t doubt him for a moment.

For the first time Audrey wondered about the past women in his life. First his old girlfriends. Then his wife, Moira... Had she been beautiful? Sexy? Sophisticated? Had he loved her to distraction?

Of course, shot back the answer.

Audrey was startled by the intense jab of jealousy this thought brought. She hadn’t really felt jealousy when she’d found out about Diane and Russell. Only pain at what his disloyalty revealed about herself, that she was incapable of inspiring a true and deep love. Yet with Elliot she was torn with envy to think of his even being with another woman, let alone loving her.

Did that mean she had fallen in love with him?

She hoped not. She really hoped not. The likes of Russell were easy to get over. Elliot was a different kettle of fish entirely. A man like him came along only once in a girl’s lifetime and would be impossible to forget.

‘Now promise me you won’t let Lavinia dress you,’ he was saying. ‘That you’ll do what I said.’

‘I promise. And Elliot...thank you...’

‘Don’t mention it.’

He hung up and Audrey was left clasping the receiver to her ear. Her hand began to shake as she lowered it slowly on to its cradle. Friday... It seemed a million light years away.

CHAPTER THREE

‘MAY I come in, Audrey?’

‘No, no, Lavinia, don’t come in. I’m still getting dressed. I don’t want anyone to see me till I’m all ready.’

‘Really, all this mystery!’ Lavinia said peevishly through the door. ‘First you won’t tell us anything about this Elliot you’ve invited. Now you won’t let me see what you look like. I just thought you might need some help with your hair. After all, you didn’t go to the hairdresser’s with me this afternoon, even though your father arranged for you to have time off work.’

‘My hair’s fine,’ she called back. ‘I did it myself.’

‘That’s what I’m afraid of, dear. You know how—’

‘Lavinia!’ Audrey burst out with uncharacteristic assertiveness. ‘Just leave me be for once!’

‘You don’t have to take that tone with me, Audrey. Truly, I don’t know what’s got into you today. Turning twenty-one is not a licence to be rude!’

Guilt assailed Audrey as she heard Lavinia flounce off, muttering. The impulse to go after her, call out, say something placatory was strong. But she was afraid Lavinia would say something patronising about her appearance, undermining the pleasurable confidence that was growing in Audrey every single second.

She turned to stare at herself in the full-length mirror one more time. She could hardly believe how good she looked. The cream silk dress didn’t water down her fair complexion as Lavinia had said it would. It gave her skin a softly glowing sheen. The evidence before her eyes suggested to Audrey that the bright reds and pinks and purples Lavinia had been encouraging her to wear—supposedly to put colour in her face—had been having the opposite effect, making her looked washed-out and sickly.

As for her hair... Audrey had never felt entirely comfortable with either the burgundy colour or the tightly curled perm which fluffed it out every which way. But Lavinia and her hairdresser had insisted on both, saying her natural brown hair was thin and mousy, that her small face needed dramatic balance, whatever that was. Despite some misgivings, she had taken their advice because they were the experts, and to give them the benefit of the doubt it was a common enough style and colour these days. Audrey had seen it to good effect on other women.

But obviously not on her.

Now that she had put it up, suppressing the mass into a tight chignon, with only a few curls escaping, Audrey could see that a shorter, less bulky style would suit her heaps better. Maybe a lighter, softer colour would be better too. She resolved to do something about both as soon as possible.

The faint bong of the grandfather clock in the foyer striking seven filtered upstairs. Audrey swallowed, a burst of nerves fluttering into her stomach. Elliot would be arriving any minute, along with the other guests. She really should be going downstairs.

Still she dithered, terrified that someone would say something critical about how she looked. It wouldn’t take much to shatter her new and fragile confidence. Maybe she didn’t look as good as she thought. Maybe she was being deceived by a minimal improvement from her previous horror.

But it wasn’t just her own appearance that was making her nervous. Elliot’s would come as a bit of a shock, too. Both her father and Lavinia were probably picturing an effete and unprepossessing young snob, not the mature dashing figure Elliot would cut in a dinner suit. She hoped they wouldn’t appear too astonished, or ask too many awkward questions. Elliot had no idea he had been cast in the role of ardent admirer. No doubt he imagined he was coming merely as a friend.

Quelling another flutter of nerves, Audrey took one last look in the mirror for renewed confidence and reluctantly made her way downstairs.

‘Why, Audrey, my dear!’ her father pronounced in surprised tones when she finally appeared in the doorway of the huge living-room. ‘You look lovely! Doesn’t she look lovely, Lavinia?’

Audrey’s chest swelled, then tightened as Lavinia turned from where she was checking the glasses and decanters in the cocktail cabinet. Her black eyes narrowed as they travelled down then up the cream dress. ‘Yes...quite lovely,’ she agreed. But her eyes were angry.

Audrey was once again taken aback by her stepmother’s attitude towards her, till she decided Lavinia’s nose was out of place that her judgement about the cream dress had been wrong. No one liked to be shown up, but one would have thought she’d be pleased her stepdaughter looked nice for her own birthday party.

The front doorbell ringing distracted Audrey from her puzzled hurt.

Elliot! she thought breathlessly.

‘I’ll answer that, Maree,’ she called out, stopping the maid in her tracks as she hurried across the black marble foyer towards the front door. The young woman, who’d been hired just for the night, looked hesitant for a moment, before making a shrugging retreat.

Audrey’s heart was thudding loudly as she spun away from a sour-faced Lavinia and hastened to the front door. It wasn’t Elliot, however. It was Edward Hurley and his wife, Alice. Tall and fortyish, Edward was the sales manager for Modern Office Supplies Ltd, and Audrey’s boss. Her gaining the position as his secretary over Diane was one of the reasons behind the other girl’s jealousy. But Audrey knew she was a more efficient and better secretary than Diane and had never felt the position had gone to her merely through nepotism.

‘My, my,’ Edward murmured as his wide-eyed gaze ran over her, ‘you’re looking surprisingly soignée, Audrey. I hardly recognised you for a second.’

‘You do have a habit of giving backhanded compliments, Edward,’ his nice wife reproved. ‘But that dress does suit you, Audrey. I love your hair up. It brings attention to your lovely eyes and skin.’ Alice smiled and gave her a kiss on the cheek. ‘Happy birthday, my dear. I hope you like this little gift,’ she said, and pressed a small but beautifully packaged parcel into Audrey’s hands.

‘I’m sure I will,’ Audrey beamed, buoyed up by the woman’s warm and seemingly sincere compliments. Lavinia’s uncharitable reaction to her improved appearance didn’t hurt quite so much now. ‘Here, let me take your coat.’

She had barely done as much when the doorbell rang again.

‘That’ll be Dwight,’ Edward said. ‘He pulled into the drive just as we reached the top step. As you can imagine, we decided not to wait for him.’

Audrey conceded that mounting the front steps at the Farnsworth residence took some time, since there were thirty of them. The house was relatively new and, Audrey thought, far too ostentatious. Double-storeyed, but of no particular style, it had columns and curlicues all over the place, not to mention acres of Italian marble and huge open-planned rooms that gave no sense of privacy.

She infinitely preferred the older, cosier home that had been her mother’s family residence. But no sooner had Lavinia become the new Mrs Farnsworth than she had insisted on having a house built to her own taste. Audrey had come home one summer holiday from the boarding-school she’d been dispatched to, to find they had moved into this brand new edifice.

She turned again and opened the door a second time. Dwight Liston, Modern Office Supplies’ sleek yuppie marketing manager, and his attractive blonde wife, Frances, literally gaped when they saw her. Their reaction did wonders for Audrey’s growing self-esteem. But nothing could obliterate the underlying feeling of apprehension at Elliot’s non-arrival. She threw an encompassing glance over her guests’ shoulders at the driveway and the street beyond the garden wall. There wasn’t a black Saab in sight. Surely, oh, surely he wasn’t going to let her down!

Dwight and Frances were duly ushered inside along with Edward and Alice, their presents deposited on the special table alongside the very ornate birthday cake Lavinia had chosen. Audrey was vaguely conscious of several more lavish compliments on her appearance and a glass of champagne being pressed into her hands. But her smile was plastic, her ears straining to hear the thrum of Elliot’s car arriving. When the maid offered her an hors-d’oeuvre she took it and ate it without having any idea what it was.

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