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‘Oh, you’re impossible!’ Melanie said disgustedly. ‘I’ll call you on Friday to see how you got on.’
‘Not too early,’ Juliet taunted. ‘You never know, I might not be alone.’
‘You should be so lucky!’ Melanie gave an angry snort before ringing off.
She really shouldn’t tease her friend in that way, but Melanie had always been so easy to tease, pretending a sophistication she just didn’t have. And she would try to run her life for her. Even at school she had arranged blind dates for her. Unfortunately this habit had carried on through adulthood.
Juliet changed into serviceable denims and a tee-shirt, then went into her study to finish writing the chapter she had had to leave earlier. She was writing the sequel to Mason’s Heritage, continuing the story of the Mason family from the late 1800s where she had last left them.
She hated the constant interruptions to her work and found it difficult to get back into the story, liking to choose the moment she broke off from her work, often losing an idea completely if she were forced to leave it for a day or so.
Maybe she should move away from London, away from the interruptions, she certainly had enough money to do that; Mason’s Heritage was very profitable. But she had lived in London for the last seven years, in the same apartment, and couldn’t really see any reason to change.
It was after three by the time she put an end to Chapter Five, and before going through to her bedroom she left the handwritten sheets beside her typewriter to be typed in the morning.
It seemed as if her head had barely touched the pillow, blessed sleep taking over, when the telephone on her bedside table began to ring. The shock of it made her shoot up in bed, a sick feeling washing over her. She snatched up the receiver. ‘Yes?’ she snapped, a painful thumping starting at the back of her eyes due to lack of sleep.
‘Oh, good,’ a familiar male voice greeted. ‘I’m glad I caught you before you went to the office.’
Office? What office? She blinked to clear the sleep from her brain. ‘Who is that?’ she demanded crossly.
‘Forgotten me already?’ the man gave a throaty laugh. ‘That isn’t very flattering.’
Jake Matthews! She had forgotten all about him. ‘What time is it?’ she groaned, collapsing back against the pillows.
‘Almost eight o’clock.’
‘Oh, God. …’ she closed her eyes. No wonder she didn’t feel as if she had been to sleep—she hadn’t!
‘Did I wake you?’ the idea suddenly seemed to occur to him.
She sighed. ‘Whatever gave you that idea?’ she snapped.
Jake gave a throaty chuckle. ‘You should be thanking me.’
‘I should?’
‘Mm, I’ve stopped you being late for work.’
Work? Goodness, yes, he thought she worked for Michael at Dickson Publishing. ‘I wasn’t going into the office today. Is there any special reason for your call?’ Perhaps he was going to cancel their date for tonight. The way she felt at the moment she could sleep the whole day and night away.
‘I just wanted to make sure I hadn’t dreamt you,’ he told her huskily.
‘And?’
‘I haven’t,’ he said with satisfaction.
Heavens, this man was a flirt! No doubt she was supposed to feel flattered by this early morning show of attention. She had to give Jake his due, he knew all the right moves. The only trouble was she wasn’t interested. ‘How did you get my telephone number? No—don’t tell me,’ she sighed. ‘Melanie.’
‘Right,’ he chuckled.
‘Was there anything else?’ she asked distantly, just longing to go back to sleep. Melanie’s dinner party hadn’t just interrupted one day’s work, usually she would have been thinking of getting up by this time, and would have been typing before ten o’clock. She always typed her own work, she found it easier that way. Besides, she doubted anyone else would be able to read her almost microscopic writing.
‘Plenty,’ Jake drawled, not at all put off by her cold manner. ‘But I think it’s a little early in the day for an obscene telephone call.’
A reluctant smile curved her lips. ‘Don’t you have to get to work?’ She refused to show him how much he was disturbing her. His voice was so clear, so close, that it almost sounded as if he were in the room with her—in the bed!
‘Thanks for reminding me,’ he said ruefully. ‘I’d like to tell you to stay just where you are until tonight, but I don’t think you would agree.’
‘You’re right—I wouldn’t.’
‘Shame. Okay, Juliet, eight-thirty, right?’
‘Jake!’ she tried to catch him before he rang off.
‘Yes?’ he answered instantly. ‘You aren’t going to let me down, are you? I had to cancel an important engagement tonight so I could see you instead.’
‘With Patricia Hall?’ she queried sarcastically, feeling more awake by the second, remembering now that he was supposed to have a girl-friend.
‘Melanie is a busy little bee, isn’t she?’ he taunted. ‘I take it she was the one who supplied that bit of information.’
‘You take it right. And if Patricia Hall thinks she has a claim on you I’d rather not get involved.’
‘Pat doesn’t have a claim on me, no woman does. We see each other when we’re both free, which hasn’t been very often lately. My engagement was with one of the guests scheduled to be on my show. I usually like to have at least one meeting with them before we record the show.’
‘And who was it this time?’ Her interest quickened in spite of herself, for she found her fellow writers a fascinating subject.
‘Gregory James,’ Jake laughed. ‘He doesn’t bear grudges.’
‘I hope you’re right,’ she said dryly. ‘Although it could be quite fun to see him take a swing at you in front of the camera.’
‘That isn’t nice, Juliet,’ he chided teasingly.
‘No,’ she agreed, laughing.
‘I’ll see you later—when you can expect suitable retribution.’
Juliet lay back on the bed once he had rung off, wide awake now, her mind racing. Gregory James might not bear grudges, but she did, and in front of thousands of the public would be a perfect time to let Jake know who she really was. The idea mushroomed and grew, until she was sure it could work. It would take a little planning, good timing, and most of all, sheer nerve, but it would be worth it just to see the embarrassed surprise on Jake’s face.
How to arrange it, that was the thing. She couldn’t approach Jake herself, that would give the whole game away, so that left Michael. She wasn’t sure he would play along with something like this. It would be a deliberate move on his part to make a fool of Jake, and Michael was a businessman before he was her friend. Not that she could blame him for that, she was far from being the only author on his books, and Jake Matthews had been known to ruin a book’s sales with a few cutting words, something no sensible publisher would want at any cost.
Maybe Melanie could be persuaded to help; Michael rarely denied his wife anything. But first of all she would have to persuade Melanie!
‘No,’ her friend instantly refused once the idea was outlined to her.
Somehow she had known her friend was going to say that, had known the expensive lunch she had treated her to would be a waste of her time and money. And she had to admit that in the clear light of day, the fog of sleep completely cleared from her brain, that it was a childish idea. It could also have been harmful to her career.
‘I had a feeling you would say that,’ she grimaced. ‘Let’s just forget the idea.’
‘Michael would never stand for it,’ Melanie nodded. ‘Not with someone like Jake Matthews. Has he called you yet? I gave him your number this morning.’
‘I know. And the reason my number isn’t in the book is because I only want the people I personally give it to to be able to use it.’
‘Oh,’ Melanie looked abashed. But not for long! ‘But you didn’t mind my giving it to Jake, surely?’
‘I minded,’ Juliet said dryly. ‘Especially when he called me in the middle of the night.’
‘Don’t exaggerate,’ her friend smiled. ‘He spoke to me at seven-thirty, so it must have been later than that.’
‘Ten to eight is the middle of the night to me,’ Juliet groaned. ‘I don’t think I’ve recovered from the shock yet. I usually manage to crawl out of bed just after nine, ready to start work at ten.’
‘Lazy!’ Melanie smiled. ‘I always get up and eat breakfast with Michael at seven-thirty before he has to leave for work.’
‘God!’ she grimaced. ‘And then what do you do for the rest of the day?’
Her friend shrugged, playing with the spoon in her coffee cup, their meal over. ‘I keep busy,’ she evaded.
‘But how?’
‘I shop, see friends, organise the staff. I keep busy,’ she defended. ‘We can’t all be career-women. I happen to like making a home for Michael.’
‘I didn’t mean to sound critical.’ Juliet touched Melanie’s hand for forgiveness. ‘We just seem to have come a long way from the time you were going to be the best singer in the world and I was going to be the personal assistant and mistress of a millionaire.’
Melanie giggled. ‘You always did have a warped idea of love and marriage.’
Warped? Was it really? She had never thought so. She had a brain, she wanted to use it, and if that meant she could never have the ideal marriage Melanie seemed to have then that was the way it was going to be. Shopping, seeing friends, and organising a household for her husband’s pleasure and comfort was not something she could settle for in her life. Writing was a fundamental part of her life now, and she couldn’t live without it.
But she knew Melanie was happy, knew that she and Michael were planning to start a family, but it just hadn’t worked out yet. But when it did Melanie was going to make a wonderful mother. She wasn’t so sure her own maternal instinct was as strong. There was something missing from her feminine make-up, the fundamental ingredient that made all her friends settle for being a wife and mother while she still clung fiercely to her independence, to her individuality. It seemed to her that marriage was a series of compromises, that you were never truly happy because you could never quite have what you wanted, only what you and your partner decided to have.
Most people would say her attitude was selfish, and maybe it was, but at the moment she hadn’t seen a way of life that had more to offer.
‘You’ll forget this idea of going on Jake’s show, won’t you?’ Melanie frowned worriedly. ‘I’m sure it could be arranged but like I told you yesterday, underneath the charm there beats a heart of pure steel. He would crucify you, probably Michael too.’
‘I’ll forget it,’ she agreed. ‘But you’ll admit it was a good idea?’ she said ruefully.
‘Fantastic,’ Melanie nodded. ‘Although maybe you won’t think so after tonight, hmm?’
Juliet smiled. ‘You’re a romantic,’ she scorned.
‘So are you,’ Melanie flushed. ‘Underneath all that hard-headed career-woman attitude.’
‘And if it isn’t just an attitude?’
‘It is,’ her friend said with certainty. ‘I remember you when you had dreams as silly as mine.’
‘The only difference being you made yours come true.’
‘Yours still could—–’
‘No,’ Juliet shook her head firmly. ‘My dreams didn’t fit in with reality. Goodness,’ she lightened her tone, ‘we’ve become very serious all of a sudden! Do you suppose we’re getting old, we seem to have said a lot of “I remembers” today?’
‘Speak for yourself,’ Melanie scorned. ‘You’re only as old as you feel, and I feel—oh, at least—twenty-four,’ she grinned.
‘Come on,’ Juliet stood up, ‘I’ll drive you home.’
The idea of fooling Jake any more than she already had was mutually dropped. It had been a mad scheme that would probably have caused more trouble than it was worth. Besides, she had Mason’s Fortune to think of. Maybe the critical Mr Matthews would like the sequel to Mason’s Heritage. One could only hope.
The telephone was ringing when she let herself into her apartment and she hastily snatched up the receiver. ‘Yes?’ she said tersely, breathing heavily from her haste from the lift.
‘I haven’t interrupted your work, have I, dear?’ her mother’s voice came very clearly down the line.
Juliet had suspected that the caller was Jake Matthews, he was being very persistent, but she was relieved, if surprised, that it was her mother. ‘I wasn’t working, I’ve been out,’ she explained, once again sitting down in the chair next to the telephone. If anything her mother chattered more than Melanie did!
‘Anywhere nice?’ her mother asked brightly.
‘Just to lunch with Melanie. Is there anything wrong, Mother?’ she asked sharply.
‘Can’t I just call my daughter to see how she is?’ Her mother sounded indignant.
‘It isn’t something you usually do,’ Juliet said dryly, easing her shoes off her feet, flexing the arches as she listened to her mother. Melanie had insisted on going round the shops for an hour before they had lunch, and her feet now ached.
‘No, well, I—I wondered if I could stay with you overnight next Friday.’
‘Next Friday?’ she frowned. ‘Why?’
‘Really, Juliet, couldn’t I just want to visit you?’
‘No,’ she said from experience.
‘Honestly, Juliet—–’
Her mother was as aware of the meaning of the word honesty as Michael was! ‘What’s happening next Friday?’ she sighed, the prospect of her mother descending on her, even for a day, filling her with apprehension. She and her mother invariably clashed when they met, although they could be friends from a distance.
‘Nothing is happening next Friday,’ her mother answered impatiently. ‘Have you forgotten, I’m going on holiday next Saturday?’
She was ashamed to say she had. Her mother was always flitting from one place to another, always in one country or another, financially secure and with a wanderlust that she settled every three or four months by visiting a country other than England.
‘Where are you off to this time?’ she asked resignedly.
‘South Africa.’
‘South Africa?’ she repeated incredulously. ‘Why South Africa?’
‘I’ve heard it’s very beautiful,’ her mother defended.
‘So have I. I just never imagined it would appeal to you.’
‘Well, it does. And I’m taking your Aunt Josephine with me this time.’
