she knew that he and the children were all right. And what about Sevenoaks? She had put a PS on her letter asking Cory to look after him till she found a job where she could keep him. But how long would it be before Noel persuaded Cory that Sevenoaks was too much of a nuisance? But how could she find out how things were going? If she rang Mrs Bottomley Noel might easily answer the telephone. Then she remembered Kit. Of course. He would certainly have news of Cory. The number was permanently engaged when she rang. He must have taken the telephone off the hook.
‘I’m going up to London,’ she said to her mother, as she went into the kitchen. ‘I’ll take William with me.’
Upstairs she glared at her worn reflection in the mirror. ‘I’m almost beyond redemption,’ she sighed sadly. But she brushed her hair until it shone, put on the grey dress Cory had given her, and tried, without much success, to paint the circles out from under her eyes.
Kit’s studio was in Islington. There was no answer when Harriet rang the bell. He must be out, she thought despairingly. It was nearly half past four and the milk hadn’t been taken in. She rang again. Still no answer. Heavy- hearted, she started down the steps when the door opened and Kit, a golden giant, dishevelled and naked to the waist, stood blinking down at her. Then he gave a bellow of rage like an apoplectic colonel, which sent her even further down the steps.
‘Harriet!’ he shouted. ‘Where the bloody hell do you think you’re going?’
He bounded down the stairs, grabbed her by the scruff of the neck and pulled her inside the house. Then slammed the door and leant his huge shoulders against it.
‘You little bitch!’ he swore at her. ‘After all your cant about loyalty. God, you make me sick!’
‘W-what’s the m-matter?’ she faltered.
William had started to howl. Harriet herself was close to tears, when a ravishingly pretty coloured girl wandered out of a bedroom, wearing a scanty orange towel.
‘What is all this noise, Keet?’ she said yawning.
‘Tangie, darling,’ said Kit, taking the howling child from Harriet and handing him to her. ‘Take this sweet little baby away and keep him quiet for a minute or two.’
The coloured girl’s eyes flashed.
‘Oh, no,’ said Kit hastily, ‘he’s not mine, scout’s honour! Nothing to do with me. Nor is she either, thank God. She’s got herself mixed up with my unfortunate brother, Cory.’
William looked dubiously up at the sleek black face, but he stopped crying.
‘Give him back to me,’ protested Harriet.
‘Shut up!’ snarled Kit and, propelling her into the nearest room, shut the door behind them.
‘Well?’ he said, towering above her like some avenging angel. ‘What made you do it? Swanning off with lover boy without a word of explanation.’
‘It wasn’t like that!’ protested Harriet.
‘Go on then,’ said Kit coldly. ‘Amaze me.’
‘I didn’t go off with Simon, and I left a letter for Cory with Noel.’
‘The great postmistress,’ said Kit acidly. ‘You’re even more stupid than I thought.’
He got up and poured himself a drink. ‘I suppose you’d better tell me the whole story.’
When she had finished, he said, ‘Noel seems to have overreached herself this time. I told you never to believe a word she says. She must have torn your letter up and told Cory you’d done a bunk with Simon. He’s still divorcing her. The case comes up next week.’
‘It is?’ Harriet whispered incredulously. ‘But what about that letter from Cory Noel showed me, begging her to come back?’
‘He probably wrote it years ago. She’s always made a fuss about every nanny they had, and she hoards all her love letters. Did you notice the date?’
Harriet shook her head.
‘Well then. I had dinner with Cory last night. He’s in a pretty bad shape.’
‘He’s in London?’ asked Harriet, turning red then white. ‘Did he mention me?’
Kit conceded a grin. ‘I’ve never known Cory really boring before. He’s convinced he messed everything up by trying to pull you, then letting you go off with Simon.’
‘Oh, God!’ said Harriet with a sob. ‘What am I going to do?’
Kit got to his feet. ‘You’d better go round to his house at once and ask him to take you back.’
‘I can’t! What can I say to him?’
‘I should tell him the truth — that you love him. I’ll get you a taxi. Don’t worry about William. We’ll look after him for an hour or two.’
Chapter Twenty-five
In the taxi, she desperately tried to keep her hands steady as she re-did her face, spilling scent and foundation all over her bag. Now they were entering Chiltern Street; there was the familiar dark blue house. Oh wait, she wanted to say, I haven’t put any mascara on. Then she thought, how silly to worry about mascara at a time like this!
She rang the bell and waited, hands clammy, throat dry, her heart pounding like surf. When Cory opened the door he seemed about to tell her to go to hell, then he realized who she was and just stared at her in amazement. She stared back unable to speak. For a moment, she thought he was going to take her in his arms, then he stood back to let her come in. They went upstairs to the room where he’d first interviewed her. He seemed to have grown taller and thinner, paler too — the haughty, inscrutable face heavily shadowed and tired. There was an embarrassed silence; then he said, ‘Sit down. How are you?’
Harriet perched on the edge of one of the yellow silk armchairs. Her legs wouldn’t hold her up any longer.
‘I’m all right.’
‘And William?’
‘He’s lovely.’
She refused when he offered her a cigarette, her hands were shaking too much.
‘How’s it going, you and Simon?’ he asked in a matter-of-fact voice, as he concentrated on lighting his own cigarette.
‘I’m not with Simon, I never have been — only for a couple of hours that Saturday night. I realized then we were completely washed-up. Didn’t Noel give you my letter?’
He shook his head slowly. He didn’t seem interested in explanations. ‘Where are you now?’
‘At home.’
‘Made it up with your parents? That’s good.’
‘I came up to London to look for a job,’ she lied.
‘Why don’t you come back?’ He paused. ‘The children are desolate without you.’
‘And you?’ she wanted to cry.
He was playing with a green glass paperweight on his desk. ‘If you were to come back,’ he said carefully, ‘there wouldn’t be any funny business. I shall be abroad for most of the rest of the year.’
‘No!’ she interrupted him with a violence that brought her to her feet, face-to-face with him. ‘I couldn’t come back on those terms.’
‘I see,’ he said in a flat voice.
She went over to the window and looked out at the young leaves of the plane tree, glinting white in the setting sun. Her throat felt like sand. She was trying to summon up courage to do the most difficult thing she’d ever done in her life.
‘For someone who’s too clever by three-quarters,’ she said in a shaking voice, ‘you’re awfully dumb, where women are concerned. Don’t you see, if I were living in the same house, and you were away all the time, and never
