Mary Burchell - Nobody Asked Me

‘I want something like this, please.’ Alison determinedly held out her hand, on which the pink pearl glimmered rosily.

Jennifer smiled, a little puzzled, but the saleswoman said, ‘I know what you mean. Wait. There is some silk we had from Paris. this morning.’

She disappeared behind the grey curtains at the end of the salon, to return a minute or two later with a roll of silk. She tossed a great fold of it over her hand. so that it cascaded to the floor with the semi-opaque milkiness of alabaster Then under it she put a length of silk that was the pink of a winter sunset.

‘Beautiful!’ Jennifer said. ‘That warm glow is heavenly. It will be specially becoming for you, Alison.’

Alison said nothing at all. She silently stretched out her hand and very gently stroked the silk.

Afterwards. when they were having lunch together, Jennifer said:

‘I suppose you are going to have some sort of a honeymoon before you leave England, even if it’s only a long week-end?

‘I suppose so.’ Alison, acutely conscious of knowing no more about it than Jennifer, felt unable to add anything to that.

Besides, somehow, the very mention of their honeymoon had turned quite another side of her future life towards her.

So much had been said and thought and planned about the more public part of this queer marriage What people were to think: the wedding which was to appear so normal on the surface: the life they were to lead out in Buenos Aires-every point had been studied to give the right effect.

‘Was it tactless of me to ask about your honeymoon? Perhaps it’s a dead secret?’ Jennifer was smiling.

‘Oh, no!’ Alison assured her earnestly. ‘We-we just haven’t decided yet, that’s all.’

‘I see Only you were so silent and thoughtful.’

She really must manage better than this!

‘I was wondering what I would choose for my going-away outfit,’ Alison lied gallantly.

‘Oh.’ Jennifer could evidently understand being silent and thoughtful about that. ‘If I were you, I should wear that little suit you are having in the deep, dusky pink. It will go wonderfully under Julian’s wedding present. He’s giving you a mink coat, isn’t he?’

‘Mink!’ Alison couldn’t hide her gratified astonishment. ‘Is he?’

‘Why, yes. Didn’t you know?’ Jennifer seemed amused. ‘He telephoned me this morning about it, so that we could keep that in mind when we were choosing other things. I thought he must have told you too.’

‘Well. he said something about a fur coat,’ Alison admitted ‘But I hadn’t supposed it would be mink.’

‘Why not? It will suit you beautifully.’

‘Yes, I know. It would suit anyone. But it’s so frightfully-sumptuous. I’d never imagined myself in mink.’

‘You are a funny girl,’ Jennifer told her. ‘I believe it’s that artless, unworldly air of yours that men find so attractive.’

‘What men?’ Alison said, opening her brown eyes very wide.

Jennifer laughed.

‘Well Julian for one, of course.’

‘Oh, yes-of course-Julian.’

‘And Simon too.’ Jennifer shot a queer, amused glance across the table.

‘Simon? What makes you think he finds me attractive?’

‘He said so, And I can assure you, Alison,’ Jennifer added, as she pushed away her coffee-cup, ‘that I never remember his admitting before that he found any girl attractive.’

Alison didn’t know quite what to say in answer to this statement, so she remained silent.

But, during the next few busy, bewildering weeks, she remembered it more than once with a slight feeling of reassurance For if the sought-after Simon Langtoft found her attractive, surely it was not so unreasonable to hope that one day Julian would find her so too?

Aunt Lydia. having once had to bow to the inevitable, rather unexpectedly insisted on managing the wedding arrangements. She hadn’t wanted the wedding at all, but, since it was there, in her family-a matter for the admiration or criticism of her circle-every detail should be stage-managed perfectly.

The artificiality and insincerity of it all wearied. Alison, but she thought it best to let her aunt have her own way.

In contrast, she was touched to something between laughter and tears by the brutal frankness of Audrey’s letter.

‘Dear Alison,-I’m glad you got Julian after all,’ she began without preamble. ‘He was much too nice for Rosalie. But it was a near thing, wasn’t it? I don’t mind being your bridesmaid, and I’ll try not to step on your train. I’ve written to Theo about a present for you. Mother will probably buy something in our name to make it look good among the other presents, but we’d like to give you something ourselves. What would you like? Anything up to ten shillings. We can’t spare more as we have spent most of our pocket-money for the term. Write and tell me what you choose. Lots of love.-Audrey.’

They are darlings,’ Alison thought warmly. ‘I’d rather have the present they’re going to squeeze out of their pocket money than all the others. Except perhaps Julian’s present,’ she added after a moment, and smiled to herself.

Julian brought her his present himself, on the evening before their wedding day.

The last trunks had been packed and stood there now outside her bedroom door, new and shiny, all ready labelled for their journey across the world. Her wedding-dress, with its cloud-like veil of rosy tulle, hung, almost solitary, in her wardrobe. Even her smaller suitcases were packed, ready to accompany her on the motoring week-end in the West of England which was to be their honeymoon.

Every link with her old life was snapping, Alison thought, as she went downstairs to join Julian in the library.

He insisted on her putting on the coat there and then, and he stood there regarding her with an expression of unmistakable pleasure.

‘Oh, Julian, it’s lovely!’ As she nervously smoothed her hands over the rich, silky fur, Alison longed suddenly to be able to kiss him. It seemed tragic and ridiculous that she was going to marry him to-morrow, and yet she had never kissed him.

‘I’m glad you like it,’ he said. ‘You look sweet in it.’

‘Julian ‘ She didn’t attempt to go to him.

‘Yes.’

‘May I kiss you for it?’

‘Why. Alison child, of course.’ He came over to her at once. But before he could touch her, there was a knock at the door, and a servant announced, ‘Mr. Langtoft.’

‘Simon!’ Julian turned, with something like annoyance as well as surprise.

Simon came straight across the room. He looked as nearly agitated as Alison could imagine him looking, and it frightened her suddenly.

‘I’m sorry to barge in like this.’ His voice had lost its slow laziness ‘But this cable has just arrived at the office for you. I thought you’d better have it at once.’

Alison watched the two men with a curious sort of detachment as they stood there under the light, like figures on a stage.

She saw Julian rip the cablegram out of its envelope, read it and then go slowly white.

‘What is it, Julian?’ she said in a whisper. ‘What is it?’

He handed her the paper without a word, and slowly she read the squarely printed letters:

‘CANCEL FLIGHT ARRANGEMENTS BUSINESS CRISIS NECESSITATES ENTIRE REARRANGEMENT OF OFFICE HERE. WRITING AIR MAIL. FARADAY.

She was very distinctly conscious of the loud ticking of the clock in. the silent room, of the nervous opening and closing of Julian’s hand, of the rustle of the cablegram in her own fingers. And then-somehow, much more startling and significant than all of these-that Simon Langtoft was watching her intently with those curious black eyes of his.

IT was Julian who spoke first.He turned to Simon a little stiffly, as though his muscles were tense and it was a physical impossibility to relax them.