Anne Mather - The Autumn Of The Witch

With a deliberately firm shake of her shoulders, Stephanie regarded her image critically. The trouser suit which at first had seemed a little too modem looked rather attractive now, and as it was a cold September afternoon the trimming of fur at the collar and cuffs and around the bottoms of the trousers looked just right. She left her hair loose, and it caught on the fur collar as she moved her head, falling in silky tendrils about her face. Its tawny brilliance was startling against the olive green suiting and yet it blended with the amber fur trimming. She wore little make-up, accentuating only the strange liquid chartreuse of her eyes, and in consequence they were the first thing anyone noticed. She was not beautiful, she knew that, and yet there was something more than mere good looks in her small face. She had a tantalizing allure that denied all formal designation. Maybe it was the slight tilt of her eyes at the corners, or maybe it was the thick luxuriant softness of her hair, or even the gentle fullness of the curves of her body that showed none of the angular lines of a model. Or perhaps it was simply the invariably bubbling personality that reached out and enveloped her admirers. In any event, she had never found any shortage of male admirers and in consequence she knew quite a lot about the opposite sex.

The doorbell suddenly pealed and she started. She must have been so wrapped up in her own thoughts she had not heard the sound of Allan’s car. Leaving the lounge, she walked out into the hall just as her stepmother came out of the library. Jennifer regarded her with unveiled mockery, raising her eyebrows critically.

‘Well, well,’ she remarked sardonically. ‘That’s new, isn’t it? I haven’t seen that – outfit – before, have I?’

The deliberate hesitation before the word outfit was not lost on Stephanie, but she refused to be drawn. Instead, she said: ‘No, you haven’t seen it. I just bought it last week. Out of my salary !’

She had the pleasure of seeing Jennifer’s lips tighten angrily, and she felt a momentary twinge of conscience. It was a moot point that her father had ordered Jennifer not to run up any more bills on clothes for the time being unless she could pay for them herself. The older woman was extravagant to a degree and this adjuration had not been taken lightly.

Stephanie saw Miller, the maid, coming to answer the door and waved her away and went to answer the door herself. Allan stood on the threshold and his eyes darkened admiringly as they surveyed her trim appearance. Then he smiled warmly at her before stepping past her into the hall where Jennifer still stood draped against the banister watching them.

‘Well, Allan,’ drawled Jennifer. ‘How are you?’

‘I’m fine, thank you, Mrs. McMaster. You’re looking well.’

‘Am I?’ Jennifer heaved a sigh. ‘I feel positively drained.’

‘Oh!’ Allan glanced inquiringly at Stephanie, but she turned away abruptly, going to the hall closet to get her gloves.

‘Yes,’ Jennifer went on, determinedly retaining his attention. ‘Robert’s having one of his regular purges and at the moment I’m being subjected to his strictures!’

‘I – see.’ Allan looked uncomfortable. ‘It’s a jolly cold afternoon, isn’t it?’

‘Is it?’ Jennifer moved impatiently. ‘I hadn’t noticed.’

Stephanie came back at that moment. ‘I’m ready,’ she said, looked purposefully at Allan, and he nodded. ‘Okay, let’s go,’ he said, and with a polite smile at Jennifer they both went out.

Allan’s Triumph sports car stood outside with the hood up, and he helped Stephanie inside before walking round to get in beside her. The powerful little car shot away, churning up the gravel on the drive, and Stephanie lay back and relaxed. Allan glanced her way understandingly, and said: ‘Jennifer getting up your back again?’

Stephanie sighed. ‘That’s the understatement of the year. Oh, Allan, I just wish there was something I could do to stop that woman from killing my father!’ There was a fierce determination in her voice and Allan shook his head helplessly.

‘Look,’ he said, ‘this business with Ventura is getting everyone down. Once everything is settled, one way or the other, things will sort themselves out, you’ll see.’

Stephanie grimaced. ‘I wish I was as certain,’ she said glumly. ‘Sometimes I wonder whether things will ever sort themselves out again.’

‘That’s a pretty defeatist attitude!’ exclaimed Allan. ‘Your father knows that sooner or later he’s got to accept Ventura’s offer.’

Stephanie looked mutinously at him. ‘Does he?’ She shook her head. ‘He’ll hang on to the business as long as he possibly can. I know him better than you do and I know it would kill him if he were thrust aside by Ventura’s management. He’s an active man, Allan, he’s been active all his life. You can’t throw a man like that on the stockpile!’

‘Nobody’s suggesting you should. This deal with Ventura was to be a merger. Your father would retain control. At least that’s how I heard it.’

‘But for how long?’ Stephanie stared at him. ‘Oh, these big syndicates know what they’re doing all right. They agree to merge with a small company like W.A.A. and then gradually they introduce their own ideas and their own management until in the end it’s more of a takeover than a merger. My father knows this and that’s why he’s fighting – and not only Ventura. The board as well.’

‘You mean the board are against him?’

Stephanie flushed. ‘Well, Jennifer is, for sure. And Aunt Evelyn. When that man was here – that Signor Bastinado—’

‘Pietro Bastinado?’

‘That’s right. Did you meet him?’

‘Not exactly. I saw him at the office when he was with your father. You realize who he is, don’t you?’

‘Of course. He’s a member of this syndicate.’

‘He’s Ventura’s personal assistant. Anyway, go on. I interrupted you.’

Stephanie frowned. ‘Oh, yes, well, when Signor Bastinado was here he asked a lot of questions about shares and controlling interests. Oh, he did it very cleverly. Jennifer was easy to gull. She enjoys talking to any attractive man, but Aunt Evelyn …’ Stephanie sighed. ‘You see – it means little to them who controls the company, so long as they get a return. But to my father it’s something else – it’s his life!’

Allan sighed now. ‘I see what you mean. But surely this could have been avoided. I mean your father must have known things were going downhill …’

‘Yes, but there was nothing he could do. The big airlines have such a tremendous advantage. They can fly their planes half empty and still talk about cutting their fares. W.A.A. relies on its charter services, but we need new planes – you know that – new equipment! But we can’t afford them without backing.’

Allan patted her hands as they lay in her lap. ‘You really will have to let your father fight his own battles,’ he said.

‘I know that. But it’s Jennifer—’ She sighed again. ‘You know how extravagant she is—’

‘But your father married her. He chose to marry a woman half his age. It’s not your responsibility, Stephanie.’

‘But that doesn’t make it any easier to take, Allan.’ Stephanie bit her lip. ‘I’m sorry. You must get sick of hearing my troubles.’

Allan smiled tenderly. ‘Not at all. In fact I’m glad you feel you can share them with me. It means you regard me as something more than just a friend.’

Stephanie looked at him quickly, sensing what he was about to say, and suddenly she didn’t want to hear it. For a brief moment, sheer panic shot through her being as she realized that whatever feelings she had for Allan they were not yet strong enough to contemplate a serious commitment. She burst into speech, chattering stupidly about one of the spastic children she was caring for, telling him about a film she had watched on television the night before, and the moment passed. She sensed his pain, for he was not an insensitive man and he must have guessed why she suddenly behaved so carelessly. But there was nothing she could say to alleviate it. Maybe it was this trouble with her father, or maybe it was her own immaturity, but whatever it was she needed more time before placing herself in a situation she could not control.