Barbara Taylor Bradford - Breaking the Rules

Geo was a smart and intelligent young woman, and at twenty-eight she had lived life to the hilt; she’d seen enough to have certain insights into people. And she had recognized right from the start that M, full name Marie Marsden, had class, came from a good family, and had obviously had a superior upbringing. She had impeccable manners, a cultured, rather beautiful speaking voice, and refinement. Even though her few possessions were well worn, they were of the best quality. On several occasions Geo had seen her carrying different-coloured antique Kelly bags, and the old Louis Vuitton she was using tonight. They were more than likely hand-me-downs from her mother or her older sister, whom she had referred to once. Otherwise Geo knew very little about this reserved, polite young Englishwoman who had breeding and self-confidence – oodles of the latter, in fact. Not to mention looks to die for.

Georgiana Carlson, artist by profession, landlady by necessity, had never met anyone quite like her. There was something mysterious about M and Geo couldn’t help wondering, yet again, what the real story was.

Turning around, picking up the tray, Geo announced, ‘Let’s have our nightcap in the den. It’s much cosier than sitting at the kitchen table, isn’t it?’

M nodded and jumped up. ‘I’ll go ahead and put on the lights.’ Hurrying across the hall and into the den, she switched on the desk lamp, and made space on the coffee table for the tray, then dropped her shoulder bag on a chair.

The two young women sat down opposite each other; lifting the vodka bottle, Geo filled two glasses, put in ice, and added a chunk of lime to the glasses.

‘Thanks,’ M said, and gave her a faint smile as she took the drink from Geo.

Sitting back in the chair, Geo said, ‘Cheers.’

M repeated the toast and took a sip of the vodka, made a face. ‘That’s strong. Wow! ’ Placing the glass on the coffee table, she stared at Geo for a long moment, and finally said, apologetically, ‘I hope I didn’t hurt you … obviously I didn’t know it was you I was bashing so hard with the umbrella.’

Geo grinned. ‘I deserved it, though. I behaved like an imbecile tonight.’ She shook her head, looking bemused. ‘ Men! Honestly, they sure can drive us crazy, can’t they?’

M was silent. Her fear and anger had now subsided, but only slightly. There was still a hint of resentment lingering. That Geo believed her to be capable of duplicity was annoying. Slowly, she said in a quiet voice, ‘Well, I suppose they can get a rise out of us … although I haven’t had that experience, because I haven’t had many boyfriends. And those I have had I haven’t had to steal from another woman.’

Geo caught the hint of sarcasm, and realized at once that M continued to be somewhat miffed, and she answered swiftly, ‘Please, M, let’s get over this … I told you I was sorry, and I am. Tonight has taught me a lesson. I mustn’t jump to conclusions, and I’ll have to question Alice more diligently, should she ever call to tell me there are strange goings-on at my house.’ Geo took a sip of vodka, and asked, ‘How is Dax? I haven’t seen him for ten days.’

‘He’s got a terrible cold, and sitting on the steps here didn’t do him any good. Otherwise, he’s just the same, trying to get an acting job, or a fashion shoot. Neither of us have been lucky about finding work.’ M peered at Geo, and murmured, ‘He was waiting for you , actually. He certainly hadn’t come over here to see me.’

Geo nodded. ‘He’s left several messages on my cell phone, but I haven’t called him back yet. Unfortunately, I’ve had to make these sudden trips to New Jersey to help my sister. She lives with our Aunt Gerry, who isn’t well at the moment.’

‘I’m sorry, is it something serious?’

‘She has a heart condition, and we have to keep an eye on her. She’s in her eighties, and has nobody else; no other family but us.’

M gave Geo a sympathetic look. ‘I hope she’s going to be all right.’

‘So do I. My sister Joanne is very loving and caring, and she’s lived with our aunt for a few years now. She moved in after she was widowed. She used to be a booking agent for fashion photography, but after she lost her husband it was too much. And having something to do now, someone to care for, has really helped her to cope with her grief.’

‘I know what you mean. My sister is a widow,’ M volunteered, and could have bitten her tongue off. Why had she suddenly confided something to Geo? She didn’t want anyone to know one thing about her. Anonymity, that was her goal. Her past was blotted out. Only the future mattered.

Geo looked at M alertly, and said, ‘You never mentioned that. What did he die of?’

‘A heart attack,’ M answered laconically.

‘So did Joanne’s husband. Dick was fifty-nine when he passed. How old was your brother-in-law?’

‘Young, in his thirties,’ M muttered. Changing the subject, she went on quickly, ‘Dax isn’t seeing another woman, I’m sure of it. He’s very focused on his career. He’s got the acting bug, you must know that.’

‘Yes, I do, of course. And I have a feeling he’s hankering to leave New York, go out to the West Coast. What do you think?’

‘It’s possible – he has mentioned it, I must admit. But why don’t you tackle him about it? That’s what I would do, anyway. You and he should talk it out, have it out, clear the air between you.’

‘I think I’ll do that tomorrow. I’ll call him, go over and see him, look after him if he’s still sick. He’s awfully neglectful of his health, that I do know. Now, what about you, M? Is there anything I can do to help? I do know a few fashion photographers, and I could call them up, introduce you, and maybe they’ll see you.’

M sat up straighter in the chair and nodded. ‘That would be wonderful if you’d do that, Geo! How sweet of you to offer. Personal recommendations are the best.’

‘Consider it done,’ Geo responded. ‘I’ll get in touch with two of them on Monday. I know Hank George and Frank Farantino are in town, and let’s see how they respond. It’s certainly worth giving it a try. In my opinion, you’d be very photographable.’

She could not fall asleep; she lay there in the dark, as still as a mouse, listening to the house, listening to its many voices.

She had grown up in old houses, and she knew them intimately. To her, they were living things … they breathed and sighed, and groaned or moaned, especially in winter. And they frequently rattled their ancient bones, and sometimes shifted on their poor old feet. Her grandfather had once told her that the foundation of a house was like a pair of feet, and she had never forgotten this. She smiled to herself now, remembering him. Popsi, she had called him, remembering how he had confided that it was merely the wood used in the structure of the house that was expanding and contracting, and that she mustn’t be afraid of the noises. ‘A house is a safe harbour,’ he had said that day. ‘The one true haven.’

M was well aware it was not the creaking house that was keeping her awake, but her many anxieties. Earlier that evening, she had been scared out of her wits when she had heard those noises downstairs, and had instantly understood there was an intruder on the prowl. How thoughtless Geo had been – and yes, stupid – to come into the house with such stealth. And all because of a man. Dax.

M turned over onto her back, staring up at the ceiling, suddenly thinking of the house where she had grown up and had lived, until very recently, with her parents. She and her siblings had been assiduously schooled to always put the alarm system on, and especially at night, and with such constant and nagging persistence it was forever engraved on her mind.