Master of Comus

'Oh, at first, no doubt. But she has such a cold mind. Who knows what thoughts occurred to her after the first shock passed?'

'We mustn't be uncharitable,' Leonie protested. 'One never knows the truth about what happens between two people, particularly husband and wife.'

'True,' Doris agreed. She laughed gently. 'You're very sweet, you know that? Has Paul been there with all her night?'

The question was charged with danger. Leonie controlled her voice carefully. 'Yes. We thought he should stay with her.'

Doris was silent for a moment, then she said," 'Chin up, honey. How about lunch with me today? Carl has a business lunch.'

'Thank you, but I think I'd better stay here in case Paul needs me.'

'You know best, honey,' Doris said quietly.

When she had rung off, Leonie moved into the kitchen and looked at the food available. Salad' would be a simple meal, easily prepared, if Paul' came back.

If Paul came back...

Madame Delarge finished her work and departed, and Leonie sat in the kitchen drinking coffee and waiting. The hours dragged past. At one o'clock she reluctantly prepared a very small plate of salad and ate it without enthusiasm.

Why had Paul not rung her? He must know she would be worried. Was Diane so possessive, so clinging, that he could not leave her even for a moment or two?

Or had he merely forgotten her own existence?

At three o'clock someone rang the doorbell, giving her a shock that made her leap up out of her chair, quivering.

She almost ran to the door. Had Paul forgotten his key? But when she opened the door it was to find Jake leaning against the doorframe, casually dressed in a denim suit with a very elegant navy blue silk shirt showing beneath it.

She stared at him blankly. 'Oh, it's you.' Disappointment made her voice stark.

He lifted one thin eyebrow. 'I'm sorry. Who did you think it was?' He glanced past her. 'Paul not here?'

'Haven't you heard? George has had a heart attack. Paul is at the hospital.'

Jake's eyes narrowed acutely. 'Comforting the lovely Diane? Of course. He would be.'

Leonie felt icy cold. 'Is there any message?' she asked.

Jake put out a hand and lifted her chin, his fingers cool. 'You look like a ghost—do you know that? What you need is a drink. I've got my car outside. Come on...'

She hung back. 'No. I must wait here in case Paul comes back and needs me.'

Jake's lip curled. 'Don't be a doormat, darling. It never pays in the end.'

The tone pricked her pride. She hesitated, then shrugged. 'Oh, very well. But I must leave him a note.'

Jake followed her back into the flat, watched as she left a note for Paul and waited while she changed into a different dress and renewed her makeup.

They drove to a small wine bar in a quiet quarter of the city, and sat drinking Provencal wine and eating tiny snippets of various cheeses with fresh, buttery croissant, in a corner of the half empty room.

Jake talked about Provence, enthused about the langue d'oc, the ancient tongue of the region, long since fallen into disuse, but enshrining some very lovely poetry which was still much admired today. 'I've a house there,' he said. 'Well, a cottage, really, a peasant's cottage with a rose-pink roof and ho sanitation to speak of—one day I'll take you there. You'll love it.' His eyes skimmed her face. 'There aren't many people I would invite to the place. I love it too much to have intruders there. But you would get the feel of the atmosphere, I'm sure of that.'

'You know nothing about me,' Leonie protested. 'We've only met twice, very briefly.'

'With some people once is enough,' Jake said simply.

She looked at him in sharp question. His eyes were direct and honest at this moment, but she felt a prickle of warning. Was Paul right? Was Jake attracted to her? And how far could she trust this very attractive, very experienced man of the world? Her experience of men was not varied enough to make her sure of herself, and her one real love affair had ended so badly that she did not trust her judgment of men.

Jake saw the doubt in her face and smiled wryly. 'Paul has warned you against my wicked wiles, I gather.'