'You underestimate yourself,' Mrs Murry said impatiently. 'I blame your mother. She should never have left you to yourself so much. You're far too distant. You're so used to being on your own that you don't even know what you're missing.'
'Robert's not my first boy-friend, for heaven's sake! I had plenty of fun in New York.' Once she had even taken a boy-friend over to Boston to stay with her mother and stepfather; it had been a disastrous weekend. Her stepfather had been gruff and offhand and her mother had kept on making pointed remarks about weddings, she had got the idea that Judith was about to announce her engagement. Judith had set her right as soon as they were alone, but by then the whole weekend had been a write-off. Judith had been embarrassed, her boy-friend nervous and her stepbrothers so noisy and boisterous that it was impossible to be around them for long without getting a headache. Judith's mother appeared to have a permanent headache, or so she claimed. During her years in New York Judith had seen little of the family; she couldn't help feeling that she was an outsider, she knew her stepfather saw her as one and her mother only looked uneasy whenever Judith was there and friction started.
As she and Robert were dancing that evening she thought that maybe she would take him home to meet her grandmother sometime soon. He was one of the nicest men she had met in years, very easy to talk to and full of amusing stories about his travels. By now Judith had discovered that he had, in fact, been married ten years ago but that his wife had died of a rare tropical disease which she had contracted when he took her to India for a holiday. Robert admitted that he had blamed himself for years, he hadn't wanted to marry again. His first marriage had been so happy and so short; it had left him with a bitter sense of loss.
'Are you over it now?' she had asked, watching him with sympathy, and he had nodded, smiling.
'It sometimes seems to me that it happened to someone else—I remember what happened, but I can't actually get that feeling again.' He had paused, then added: 'Thank God. It was bad while it lasted, I wouldn't want to feel like that again. It was like being locked up in a room without windows; I couldn't see or fear anything. I think it was two years before I started being alive again, and I don't remember a damn thing that happened in between.'
Looking at his friendly, cheerful face she couldn't imagine him torn apart by grief, but she didn't doubt his sincerity. The very fact that his pain had been so alien to his usual character must have made it worse for him. That was what worried her about Baba—someone who is sunny and sweet-natured can be more at risk than someone who has already learnt how to absorb pain. Nothing in her life had ever hurt Baba until now; how would she ever cope with it?
The nightclub was dim and shadowy. Tables lined the walls, you could just make out the faces of people sitting at them. The beat of the music throbbed in the small room, lights flashed, multi-coloured and dazzling.
'You don't get migraine, do you?' Robert asked, looking down at her anxiously.
'No, why?'
'These lights can spark off migraine—my wife used to get them . . .' He stopped and grimaced, then drew her closer, his arm a tight band across her back. 'I like your perfume—what is it?' he asked, changing the subject too obviously.
'Patou,' she said. 'Expensive, but it was a present on my last birthday; I've used very little of it, I save it for special occasions.'
'I'm glad you think this is one,' he murmured, his cheek against hers. They moved around the floor in silence for a moment; Judith had her eyes half-closed and for a second she thought she was imagining what she saw, but then she opened her eyes fully and looked hard through the smoky shadows at the couple dancing a little way to the right of them and it was Luke Doulton, and the woman in his arms, her head on his shoulder and her arms wound round his neck, was Caroline Rendell.
Over Caroline's black head Luke's eyes stared back at Judith with a faintly startled expression in them as though he, too, thought he was seeing things for a moment.
Judith was frozen in shock and mounting anger. Of course it was none of her business, she had no right to be angry, but she was furious. Baba had been absolutely spot on with her doubts and worries about Caroline and Luke; just the sight of them dancing so close that you couldn't have got a thin sheet of paper between them made Judith's teeth meet.
She gave them a last, contemptuous stare as the music stopped and Robert guided her back to their table. A bottle of champagne was waiting for them in a silver ice bucket; Robert poured them each a glass and handed Judith one with a smile.
'Enjoying yourself?' he asked, and she managed to smile back and say she was having a wonderful time. It didn't seem too convincing to her, but in the dim light Robert couldn't see the icy sparkle of her eyes. She sipped the golden wine while Robert told her about a trip to South America he was going to make next month.
'If you fancy seeing Peru…' he invited, his eyes warm.
'I'll be back at work by then, thanks all the same.' She found it hard to concentrate on what he was talking about; she was too busy going over and over in her mind the sight of Luke Doulton with the elegant Miss Rendell shackled to him. There had been something desperate about the way those slim arms clung to his neck. Judith almost felt sorry for her; Luke Doulton really was a first-class bastard! Baba had only flown off yesterday. He hadn't wasted much time, had he? And that was how it would always be, presumably—as soon as he was out of Baba's sight he would have some other woman in his arms.
'With Schewitz and Quayle?' Robert asked. 'No, I'm going to work for Luke Doulton.' Judith's voice was loaded with tension, and Robert picked it up, he peered at her in bewilderment, as well he might; she didn't sound like somebody looking forward to starting a new job, she sounded more like somebody with a hatchet looking for a head to bury it in.
'Luke? Really? Doing what?'
'I'm taking over from Caroline Rendell.' In the office, at any rate, Judith thought, her eyes flicking across the room in search of Luke and Caroline. Some of Caroline's activities were far too personal for any stand-in—she obviously meant to carry on with them herself, although how she could bear to do so when she knew Luke was marrying another girl Judith could not imagine.
'Good heavens!' Robert exclaimed, staggered. 'When was this settled?'
'Legally, yesterday. I signed the contract yesterday morning. Mr Doulton offered me the job last Monday.' She paused and added crisply: 'He works fast.' And that's putting it mildly, she thought.
Robert leaned back, studying her, his champagne glass balanced on the flat of his hand. 'I hope you know what you're doing, Judith. He isn't an easy man to work for, I'm told.'
'I'm sure your informant knew what she was talking about.'
'It was a he, actually,' Robert said mildly. 'Do I get the impression you don't like him much?'
'Like him?' Judith repeated. 'No, I don't like him much.' She felt so much anger and contempt for Luke Doulton that she had to suppress it or she would startle Robert out of his wits. 'Luke Doulton is a...'
'Good evening.' The level voice halted the adjectives before they could escape from her tongue and she looked up, stiffening.
'Oh, hallo, Luke,' Robert said hurriedly, pulling himself together rather faster than Judith managed to do. 'I didn't spot you earlier. Just arrived?'
'Not long ago,' Luke said evasively, and Judith wondered how long he and Caroline had been dancing together in that blatant fashion without her noticing them.