THE RELUCTANT BRIDE (12 page)

“
Yes,
Amanda?”

“
Is
it true you and Mr Nicholson are getting married?”

“
Who
told you that?”

“
Sue
Landon.”

Gabriella
frowned. So Rod had given Sue the news before anyone else and once
again without consulting her first.

“
Can
you keep a secret, Amanda?” she asked, knowing that the girl
couldn't.

“
Oh
yes, Miss Stevens!”

“
Mr
Nicholson has begged me several times to marry him. I'm still
considering whether or not to accept his proposal.” That should
scotch any gossip about handsome seducers and spinsters with
repressed passions, she decided.

“
Oh,
marry him, Miss Stevens!
I
would
– I mean, if he asked me.” Amanda's round blue eyes
misted. “I think he's lovely!”

“
I
thought you liked Darren,” said Gabriella, mentioning one of
the boys in the drawing office.

Amanda
pulled a face. “He's all right, but he's so serious. Always at
night school or studying. And he's not very handsome.”

“
Handsome
is as handsome does,” said Gabriella.

“
What
does that mean, Miss Stevens?”

“
Nothing.”

****

“
Good,
wasn't it?” said Bernard as they emerged blinking into the
brightly lit foyer of the Arts Centre.

“
Yes,”
said Gabriella, although the Film Society re-run of “One Flew
Over The Cuckoo's Nest” could have been a Charlie Chaplin
comedy for all the attention she had given it. The burden of what she
had to tell Bernard weighed heavily. She wished she had plucked up
courage to speak when he picked her up at seven o'clock.

“
Jack
was brilliant, of course. You can usually rely on him.”

Why
must he always refer to actors by their first names? she wondered
fretfully. Anyone would think he was personally acquainted with them.
“I thought he was a bit mechanical in parts,” she argued,
just to be contrary.

“
Really?”
Bernard's light grey eyes widened. He nodded slowly. “Well, you
could be right.”

And
why must he always agree with her? “Oh, do stop it!” she
burst out as he continued to nod. “You look like one of those
things people hang in the back of cars.” She was fully aware
that she was behaving badly but she couldn't help it.”

“
Are
you sure you're all right, Gabriella? You seem very tense.”

She
sighed. “I'm sorry, Bernard. I didn't mean to snap. Take no
notice of me.”

He
peered into her face. “You can't fool me, Gabriella. I know you
too well.”

“
Oh,
for heaven's sake!” she snapped again.

“
Well,
what about a drink?” he suggested, backing off. “The
upstairs bar is open.”

She
shook her head. “Let's go for a walk. Down to the river.”

He
helped her on with her coat, his fingers light on her shoulders. She
could feel his breath, mint scented, and moved away. At this moment
she couldn't bear him to touch her. Outside, rain sheened the
pavements and she tucked her chin into the collar of her coat.

“
It's
raining,” he said.

“
Worried
about getting wet?” Her voice was acid.

“
No,
of course not.”

They
walked in silence past the golden lit windows, the shadowed office
doorways. Someone came out of an Indian restaurant and the warm smell
of curry drifted across the street.

“
Hungry?”
he asked.

“
No.”
She could sense his bewilderment and his desire to propitiate her,
like a puppy dog that doesn't know why it's being punished, and she
hated herself, but something in her wanted to goad him, pick a
quarrel, make it all his fault.

They
reached the bridge and stopped halfway across. She leaned against the
parapet and gazed at the barges moored below, listening to the slap
of water against their bows.

“
Fancy
a canal holiday this year?” asked Bernard. “We could hire
a narrowboat. Someone at the office who went on the Kennet and Avon
last year told me -”

“
Bernard.”

“
Yes?”

“
I
can't go on holiday with you.”

“
No?
Is your mother worse?”

“
It's
not that/”

“
Money?
You know I'll always help if -”

“
Bernard,
there's something I have to tell you. It's – not easy. I wish
there were some way ...” She fell silent. It was going to be
even harder than she had anticipated.

She
began again. “We've known each other a long time, haven't we?
And – I've always valued your friendship, Bernard.”

“
Friendship?”

“
And
consideration. I'm – very fond of you, you know that, and we've
had some very good times together. But – perhaps it's time to –
to -”

“
To
what?” He waited. “To what, Gabriella?”

“
We
can still be friends. I hope we always will be – but I think it
might be better if – if we both saw more of other people.”

“
You're
trying to tell me there's someone else, aren't you?”

She
turned sharply. “How did you know?”

He
glanced at her, glanced away. “You've been acting strangely all
evening. I guessed something was wrong, it's not like you to be
cruel, sarcastic.”

She
closed her eyes. Oh Bernard, forgive me.

“
And
then, just now ...Well, I just knew.”

“
I'm
so sorry, Bernard. I didn't plan for this to happen.

He
turned from her, hunched his shoulders away when she reached to touch
him. She stood there helplessly, trying to read from his unmoving
profile just what he was feeling, trying to imagine how she would
feel if their situations were reversed.

For
a long time he was silent, then: “Rushed you off your feet, did
he?”

That
at least was true. In a sense. “You could say that.”

“
Who
is he?”

“
Does
it matter?”

“
I'd
like to know.”

“
Someone
at Englands,” she told him reluctantly.

“
I
suppose he's better looking than me. More successful.” His
voice was bitter.

“
Oh
Bernard, don't belittle yourself. It's nothing to do with looks or
success. If you must know -” But of course she couldn't tell
him. She couldn't tell anyone, least of all Bernard, who might well
let something drop to her mother. “He's no better than you,
really he isn't. It's just – something different. I can't
explain, I wish I could,”

“
Well,
at least you've made it clear that I mean nothing to you.”

“
That's
not true. You must know I care about you. And I respect you
tremendously.”

“
Respect!
If I'd shown a little less respect for
you
,
maybe this wouldn't have happened.”

“
Bernard,”
she said miserably. “You really don't understand.”

“
I
wanted us to have a solid start. I had it all worked out. As soon as
I'd taken my finals – As soon as I'd saved enough -”

“
This
isn't about money, Bernard.” But it was.