His Diamond Bride

‘How long has it been going on?’ he asked.

‘I…can’t say,’ she said, not entirely truthfully.

‘Tell me,’ he said violently. ‘Don’t spare my feelings. I want to know the truth, however bad.’

The truth was that Sylvia had been playing them off against each other for at least two months, perhaps longer. Dee had encountered Philip Mason once, a burly man in his thirties, pleasant enough but uninspiring. How Sylvia could have preferred him to the dashing Mark baffled her.

‘It was a few weeks,’ she said vaguely.

‘And I thought she loved me. I respected her, do you know that? I thought she was a decent girl and I didn’t…well, anyway, I respected her. And all the time she was…well…’

They walked on in silence for a while. Dee had tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and kept it there determinedly, lest he escape and do something that might harm him.

‘Don’t brood about it,’ she begged. ‘It can’t do any good now.’

‘It might teach me to be more wary of girls another time. How everyone will laugh at me.’

To comfort him, she denied it, but her words were hollow. Their performance at the party would help only for a short time. The truth would soon seep out.

‘They don’t matter,’ she said urgently. ‘You must thumb your nose at them. All they need to know is that you and Sylvia have split up-’

‘Because she preferred someone else.’

‘No, she pretended to prefer someone else because she knew you’d lost interest.’

‘Who’ll believe that?’

This was what Dee had been preparing for, when she must risk everything on one throw of the dice. To the last moment she wasn’t sure if she had the nerve, but then she took a deep breath and threw her fate to the winds.

‘Everyone will believe it,’ she said, ‘if you’re seen with another girl.’

‘But how can I do that to any girl-deceive her into thinking I’m interested when I’m just playing a part?’

‘But if she already knew the truth, you wouldn’t have to deceive her,’ Dee pointed out.

‘But who would-?’ He stopped as her meaning started to get through to him. ‘Are you saying that you’d be willing to-?’

‘It can’t be anyone but me,’ she said. ‘You said once I was your best friend. Well, friends help each other out. One day I’ll ask you to do something for me.’

‘Is that a promise?’ he demanded harshly. ‘Because I must give you something back.’

‘It’s a promise.’

‘I still don’t understand. How do we go about this?’

‘Look down that road,’ she said, pointing. ‘Those three people coming this way were at the party. Now they’re turning into The Dancing Duck, so we’ll go there, too.’

‘They’ll be our first audience,’ he said, catching her mood.

‘That’s right. They’re looking at us. Put your arm around my shoulders-that’s it! Are you ready?’

‘Quite ready. Sound the bugles! Forward march!’

Defiantly, they raised their heads and walked on into battle.

Eyes turned towards them as they went into the public house. Apparently unaware, they found a corner table and sat talking quietly while he sipped a beer and she an orange juice.

She knew, because Sylvia had told her, that they had often come here together, sometimes alone, sometimes in a group of their friends, the very ones who were glancing at them now, while trying to seem as if they weren’t.

‘Come to think of it, there was always something slightly wrong between us,’ Mark brooded. ‘She was so beautiful and I wanted her like mad, but we never seemed to talk about much. Not that we needed much talking, but when we did-I don’t know-there was nothing there. I kept meaning to back away, but then she’d give me that look and I’d melt.’

‘I know,’ she said softly.

‘You do?’

‘I saw you melt.’

‘Yes, you don’t say much, but you see a lot more than most people, don’t you? You saw what a fool I was.’

‘You weren’t a fool,’ she insisted. ‘Everyone gets carried away by their feelings sometimes.’

‘Not you, I’ll bet,’ he said with a faint friendly grin.

‘I’m just eighteen; there hasn’t been time,’ she said with an air of primness.

‘That’s not the reason. You’ve got your feet on the ground, not like the rest of us.’

My feet aren’t on the ground, she thought. I’m floating on air because I’m with you. If only I could risk telling you, but I can’t because you’d run a mile.

Instead, she spoke brightly, sounding confident. ‘All right, I’m sensible and I know what I’m doing, so you listen and take my advice.’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘Stretch your arm a little way across the table so that your hand’s close to mine, but not touching.’

He did so.

‘Inch your fingers just a little bit further.’

‘As though I was longing to touch you but didn’t dare,’ he suggested.

‘That’s right. You’ve got the idea.’

He did it perfectly, fingers almost brushing hers, drawing back quickly, then venturing forth again. She wondered how often he’d done this for real, teasing a girl into thinking that he was her humble suppliant, and involuntarily gave a small choke of laughter.

‘What’s so funny?’ he asked. ‘Aren’t I doing it right?’

‘Perfectly. In fact, too perfectly. This is how you get the girls to like you, isn’t it? Make them think you’re meek and hesitant, and they’re in control.’

‘You are in control,’ he pointed out.

‘But you’re not trying to win my heart. I mean the others. I’ll bet it works with them.’

He grinned. ‘Sometimes. Some like it that way, some like a man to seem more dominant. I have to vary it.’

‘You’re a cheeky so-and-so,’ she said.

‘That’s another approach that pays dividends,’ he admitted. ‘All right, all right, I know we’re only play-acting. I’m not aiming to win dividends from you, I promise. I wouldn’t dare.’

‘Just don’t forget that,’ she said, trying to sound stern.

At the same moment they both burst out laughing. Heads turned at the sight of Mark Sellon having such a good time with Sylvia’s sister, then nodded wisely. Aha! Perhaps that was the reason Sylvia had vanished.

‘Permission to touch your fingers,’ Mark murmured.

‘Just a little.’

His fingertips brushed hers, withdrew, advanced again, paused, withdrew.

‘Don’t overdo the meek bit,’ she advised.

‘I’m nervous. I fear your rejection.’

She choked again. ‘Stop it,’ she said in a quivering voice. ‘I can’t keep a straight face. You don’t do “nervous” very convincingly. It doesn’t come naturally to you.’

For answer, he took her hand in his, letting them lie together on the table.

‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘I feel happier holding your hand. I’m not sure I could cope without you. I’m just so confused by all this-’

His grip tightened suddenly. Dee didn’t speak, but grasped him in return, knowing it was the only comfort that would get through to him now. He smiled and nodded to say he understood, and they stayed like that in silence until he said, ‘Let’s go. Getting drunk doesn’t seem like such a good idea any more.’

Hand in hand, they rose and headed for the door.

‘They’re watching us,’ she murmured.

‘Then let’s give them something to watch,’ he said, pulling her close and laying his mouth on hers.