Mary Burchell - Nobody Asked Me

Jennifer suddenly looked rather put out.

‘Oh, I-I don’t know. I’ve forgotten.’

‘And yet you remember the climate, products, and population. Extraordinary girl,’ said her brother.

Jennifer laughed, but Alison thought she was a little vexed, and when Julian said, ‘Would you like to dance, Alison?’ she agreed eagerly.

‘Settled everything satisfactorily?’ he asked when they were alone.

‘Yes. Jennifer is coming with me to-morrow morning. She is very kind and helpful.’

‘I knew she would be,’ Julian nodded. ‘She’ll take on anything in an emergency, and she always does the job well.’

Alison supposed it was ridiculous to wonder whether- given time-he would have asked Jennifer to help him out of the major emergency which had come upon him.

There was no doubt about it, she would have ‘done the job well.’

When they came back to their table, Simon asked her to come and dance with him. She couldn’t very well refuse, of course, but she had an odd reluctance to be alone with him, and perhaps be subjected to his half-bantering remarks once more.

But she need have had no fear. Nothing could have been more considerate and charming than his air towards her. He danced well, but he didn’t talk much, and what he said was interesting.

In the car on the way home, Julian asked, ‘Did you enjoy yourself?’

‘Very much indeed. I liked them both.’

He nodded.

They are an interesting couple.’

There was a moment’s silence. And then:

‘Julian.’

‘Yes?’

‘Is he entirely reliable?’ She couldn’t imagine why she had said that, once it was put.

‘How do you mean? He is perfectly honest in business. Only, he’s a born gambler,’ Julian said.

Do you mean by temperament, or that he literally plays cards for money?’

‘Everything. Cards, racing, stocks and shares. Yes-and in general temperament too. I’ve seen him lose three years’ salary in half an hour and win it all back again without turning a hair.’

‘And does he usually win in the end?’ Alison asked, a little fearfully.

Julian laughed.

‘I couldn’t say, Alison. He has never reached the stage of trying to borrow from me. That’s all I know. But then I dare say he knows it wouldn’t be any good.’

Alison glanced at his profile in the passing lamplight and thought it looked grim.

‘Wouldn’t you-wouldn’t you lend money to a friend, Julian?’ she said timidly.

‘Not for that reason. If you start lending to a gambler you soon find you have all the expense and none of the thrill-if there is any thrill.’

Then you have no leaning towards it yourself?’

‘Good lord, no. Do I look like a gambler?’

‘No,’ Alison was bound to admit. ‘No, Julian, you don’t. But I suppose this marriage is a bit of a gamble, isn’t it?’ she said consideringly.

‘I suppose it is.’ He looked amused. Though, if I remember rightly, you represented it to me as "a dead cert". Besides, what about your own risks, you little gambler, yourself?’ And, putting out his arm, he drew her against him.

‘I’ve told you-I’m willing to take the risk to get away from Aunt Lydia,’ she said doggedly, glad that she need not look at him.

‘And I’ve told you-I’m willing to take the risk in order to get this job in Buenos Aires,’ he mimicked her gently. ‘So we’re quits.’ And she felt him drop a light kiss on the top of her head.

It wasn’t a real kiss, of course-more the kind he might give Audrey. But somehow it sent Alison to bed that night infinitely comforted.

The next morning, Alison again had breakfast alone with her uncle. Aunt Lydia almost always chose to breakfast in her room, and Rosalie was either doing the same or else had already departed on some convenient visit which would probably be her way of avoiding any awkward meetings with her cousin.

Uncle Theodore looked up and gave her an impersonal ‘Good morning, Alison.’ But she thought he was not at all averse to having her there opposite him.’Well, what did you do yesterday?’ he asked, and she noticed that this time he even disregarded his paper to talk to her.

‘We-we bought my ring,’ Alison told him, a little anxiously, in case, for some reason, he should find it as unimportant as her aunt had.

‘Did you? Let me see it.’

Alison held out her hand, and he took it in his thin, dry fingers.

‘Ve-ry beautiful. Most unusual shade. Let me see it off your hand.’ Her uncle looked almost enthusiastic, and she remembered that Aunt Lydia had once said he was something of an authority on pearls.

She took off the ring and handed it to him. He examined it with such attention that she had the uneasy feeling he would have taken it out of its setting, if he had had the means handy, and weighed it and valued it there and then. Still, even this academic interest in her ring was welcome after Aunt Lydia ’s slighting treatment.

‘Yes That’s very fine.’ Her uncle handed the ring back. ‘Certainly Julian knows how to buy jewels for a woman. Diamonds suited Rosalie, and pink pearls suit you.’

The reference to Rosalie slightly disconcerted Alison. Then, on sudden impulse, she exclaimed, ‘Julian said the pearl was like me.’

‘Did he, indeed?’ Uncle Theodore looked amused. ‘Very pretty compliment-and nearer the truth than most.’

Alison laughed then, and felt glad, somehow, that she had told him. To have someone else appreciate Julian’s remark seemed to make it more real.

‘I’ve arranged about choosing my trousseau, too, Uncle Theodore.’

‘Oh? With your aunt, after all?’

‘Oh, no.’ Alison was very thankful to think that she would not have to have Aunt Lydia with her all the time, disparaging and sowing miserable doubts in her mind. Jennifer would be very much pleasanter company. ‘I took your advice and spoke to Julian about it. A friend of his is coming with me. We’re starting this morning, because there isn’t much time, is there?’

‘No, I suppose there’s not,’ her uncle agreed. ‘When do you leave? Early November?’

‘Yes.’ It gave Alison a queer feeling to realise how near it was.

‘It’s a big step for you, Alison.’ Her uncle thoughtfully spread butter on a piece of toast.

‘Y-yes, I know.’ Something in his tone made her wonder what was coming next.

Then he shot a look at her.

‘You are genuinely fond of Julian, aren’t you?’

‘Why-yes, Uncle.’ Alison spoke after a second’s hesitation. It was true enough, of course, but, when she remembered the exact circumstances of the case, she felt all the guilt of having told a lie. She did love Julian, yet she must pretend to him that she didn’t, and to everyone else that she did. It was a terrifying network.

‘Well, Alison’-her uncle spoke rather deliberately-’I don’t often give advice to people of your age. For one thing, I know how little effect it usually has. But I should be sorry to see you make the mistake that so many women do.’

‘And what is that?’ Alison asked in a small voice.

He looked up and smiled.

‘You needn’t sound so alarmed. I don’t imagine it applies to you. But don’t ever marry a man for any reason but the one you give to him. He invariably finds you out-and usually much sooner than most of you expect.’

Alison sat there wordless. She tried desperately to produce a little laugh, but she couldn’t. It stuck in her throat and made her want to cry instead.

Her uncle couldn’t possibly know the truth, of course. He was thinking of women like Aunt Lydia, who pretended love and married for money. But the odd significance of the remark gave her an almost superstitious chill.

Suppose Julian ever did find out? Discovered that her talk of ‘a business proposition’ was all sham? Found that he had saddled himself with a fond wife for whom he didn’t care in the least? Suppose-