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With Jerome banished to an hotel, the sleeping arrangements in the apartment had been rearranged. Mrs Manfred now occupied the bed which had been Kate’s and, leaving Philip and his puppy undisturbed, Kate had moved on to the couch to sleep. She had thought there might have been some objection to a dog on Philip’s bed, but Jerome’s mother had laughed at that as well.

‘A golden Labrador, that’s a good dog for a boy. There’s something about a boy and a dog, they seem to go together, don’t you think? But,’ Mrs Manfred’s eyes had twinkled, ‘the dog’s going to grow faster than Philip, so the sooner he learns not to sleep on the bed, the better. Not yet, of course, Philip needs the company and reassurance. I’ll take the dog while you’re away if you like.’

‘You don’t mind?’ Kate felt surprise, although she couldn’t think why.

‘Not in the least. I’ve an old terrier bitch who’s feeling her age, and the pup will put new life into her. She’s always been a good mother, but she’s too old for breeding now and she trails round, trying to steal pups from the younger bitches. A bit like me!’ Jerome’s mother smiled ruefully and then became brisk. ‘Nearly ten o’clock—off to bed with you, Kate, we’ve another busy day tomorrow. Finish that cup of tea while I check my list to see what’s left to do....’

Kate was drooping in her chair. They were both exhausted, she thought, and for the first time she noticed the lines of weariness around Mrs Manfred’s mouth and eyes. Despite her prejudice against Jerome’s mother, she was forced to admit that they got on very well together, and this was puzzling her. She should have been hating her, but it was quite impossible for her to hate Jerome’s mother. She uttered the thought aloud and was surprised when that lady laughed uproariously.

'Of course you can’t hate me, why should you? You’re a nice, sensible, well balanced girl. I doubt if you could really hate anybody, and in any case, why me? Because your stepsister and I didn’t always see eye to eye? There’s nothing unusual in that, a great many daughters-in-law don’t have a lot of love for their husbands’ mothers. A man will treat his mother-in-law with affection, but a girl always seems to think that her husband’s mother is trying to get the boy back, repossess the man-child. Ridiculous!’ She chuckled. ‘Shirley thought I was indelicate, did you know? Because I call a spade a spade. It comes of being brought up in the country. We had puppies and kittens instead of dolls, and ponies in place of bicycles. There was no nonsense about gooseberry bushes and what the fairies brought, or what the local midwife had in her little black bag!’ She turned to Kate, her face a picture of distress. ‘Your sister Shirley—I never could understand her, everything had to be wrapped up in cotton wool. We didn’t get on at all. I wouldn’t have minded so much, but....’ Kate never learned what Mrs Manfred wouldn’t have minded because at that moment the outer door of the apartment was flung open and then slammed violently and a small dark-haired girl with black, passionate eyes erupted into the kitchen.

Mrs Manfred regarded the newcomer glacially. ‘Estelle,’ she said with no trace of surprise in her voice. ‘Have you come to make a scene?’ She turned to Kate. This is Estelle Rivers, Kate, a family friend. Estelle, Kate Forrest, who’s marrying Jerome.’

Estelle quivered visibly. ‘She can’t marry Jerome!’ The words came out shrill and fierce. ‘Jerome’s mine, he’s always been mine! What’s the matter, is she in the family way?’

Kate found her voice. ‘No, I’m not!’ she snapped.

Estelle ignored the interruption. ‘Because if she is, Jerome had better make certain first that it’s his. It’s no use relying on the word of this little tramp. Where is Jerome? I must see him! I
have
to see him. He can’t do this to me!’

‘Don’t be silly.’ Mrs Manfred was brisk. ‘I know you must be disappointed, but it’s no use your coming down here in one of your famous rages. Jerome goes his own way, you know that, and your storms won’t affect him one little bit.’

‘Yes, they will!’ Estelle hissed. ‘I’ve been all day finding out about Kate Forrest, and when I’ve seen Jerome there won’t be any wedding, I can promise you that!’

‘Good!’ Kate jumped to her feet. ‘Then I’m off.’

‘See?’ Estelle almost shrieked in her triumph. ‘She knows! She knows what I’ve discovered and she’s wise enough to know when the game’s up. Let her go.’

‘Certainly not!’ Mrs Manfred caught at Kate’s skirt and jerked it. ‘Sit down, Kate, and you sit down as well, Estelle—and for heaven’s sake stop yelling. There’s a child asleep in the room next door.’

‘Another little bastard?’ Estelle scowled her distaste, but she kept her voice down.

Mrs Manfred became almost arctic. ‘No, it is not.’ She was precise and over-polite. ‘It’s Philip. Kate’s been looking after him since the accident. Now let’s get a few things straight,’ she raised a hand to quell the girl’s next outburst. ‘What exactly have you been “finding out”? And don’t go into one of your ridiculous fantasies, they’re usually too absurd for words, and I warn you, I shan’t believe a word you say.’

‘It’s not a fantasy. The woman’s been a model!’ Estelle quivered with outrage.

‘And that makes me unfit for human consumption?’ Kate grabbed hold of her temper and hung on to that control grimly.

‘Jerome knows what he wants.’ His mother was bland but outspoken. ‘If he wants to marry a model, that’s his business. Personally, I think he’s made a good choice, although he’s taken long enough about it, and why should I object? I’m not marrying Kate, so it’s nothing to do with me or with anybody except Jerome. When I saw him last he seemed quite satisfied—and why shouldn’t he be?’

‘She must be blackmailing him into it,’ Estelle muttered fiercely, and at this reversal of the roles of blackmailer and victim, Kate burst into laughter which was almost hysterical.

‘Stop that!’ Mrs Manfred’s voice was sharp. ‘I didn’t think you’d behave in that way, Kate. Didn’t I say that you were sensible and well balanced? Now, Estelle, go back to your hotel or wherever it is you’re staying, and if you feel you must kill yourself before morning, do it discreetly and without making too much mess. You know I hate blood. I don’t think it’s much use your waiting for Jerome, he may not be back.’

‘He’s sleeping with her, isn’t he? He’s bound to be back.’ Estelle was truculent. ‘I’ll wait for him.’ She then turned to Kate, appearing to notice her for the first time. ‘Jerome gets these spasms, you know. I’m quite used to them. He sees some woman he just has to have and he sets off in pursuit. It never lasts more than six months and then he comes back to me.’

‘Good!’ Kate was acid. ‘Then you’ll only have to wait out the next six months, won’t you?’ She put down her cup with a distinct thump. ‘I’m going to bed,’ she informed her mother-in-law-to-be. ‘As you said, tomorrow’s another busy day, and I must get some sleep.’ As she drew a bath and slipped out of her clothes, she thought about the little scene and shuddered. One point about it had cleared up a mystery, though. Kate knew now why Shirley had hated her mother-in-law. Mrs Manfred was outspoken and sharp and she had made it abundantly clear that she had little time for rages and sulks. Kate’s mouth curved in a faint smile as she recalled the remark about Estelle killing herself. Shirley wouldn’t have appreciated a remark like that! And yet Mrs Manfred apparently said that sort of thing frequently, judging by the way the volatile Estelle had ignored it. Shirley also had been given to spurts of temper and was capable of sulking for days on end until she finally got her own way. She wouldn’t ever have got her own way with Jerome’s mother.

Mrs Manfred had gone to bed and Kate was just making herself comfortable on the couch after hearing Estelle’s staccato heel-taps receding down the hall and the slam of the front door of the apartment which meant that the girl had decided not to wait any longer. She looked up to find Jerome had come in. Without leave, he sat on the couch and leaned over her.

‘Tired, Kate?’

‘Very!’ She glared back at him. ‘We’ve sustained a visit from your best girl-friend. You’d better call this wedding off!’

‘Oh no, the wedding will go ahead as planned, that was our bargain.’

‘Estelle seems to think she has a prior claim.’ She struggled with the blankets, tugging at them and trying to make herself more comfortable. ‘She also thinks that I’m blackmailing you into marriage, which is the biggest joke of the century if it wasn’t so damn tragic! She did offer one ray of hope, though, she told me that these little affairs of yours rarely last more than six months, so I told her to wait it out. I hope she does, and I hope she gets you. She has a perverted taste in men and she deserves you. You deserve her,’ she added thoughtfully. ‘She’s quite impossible!’

Long fingers pushed the strap of her nightgown from her shoulder and Jerome lowered his head to nuzzle into the curve of her neck. Kate held herself rigid, hoping that he would not notice her fearful trembling or the frantic beat of her heart, but of course he did. His hand lay quietly on the softness of her breast, sounding the quickened heartbeat.

‘None of this will affect the outcome, Kate. On Saturday you’ll be Mrs Jerome Manfred.’ Quiet, steady fingers slid the strap back into place and with no change of expression he rose and stood looking down at her. ‘And while we’re on the subject, Kate, don’t allow your friend Gerald to rescue you. If you do that, I’ll destroy him.’ He said it quietly enough, almost conversationally, but there was a smooth menace below the words and she shuddered. ‘Don’t even think of him,’ he smiled down into her frightened eyes. ‘Ours will be a perfectly normal marriage and there’ll be no room for thoughts of another man in our bed.’

She turned over so that she couldn’t see him and buried her face in the pillow, stuffing her fingers in her ears to shut out his hateful, mocking voice, and she lay like that for a long time. When she at last turned, the room was in darkness and he had gone.

In the silent darkness she lay for a long time, wide awake, while she tried to sort out this crazy affair in the light of what little new knowledge she had gained that evening. Jerome, she eventually decided, was an economical man who liked killing as many birds with one stone as possible. Philip was one bird and the passionate Estelle was, evidently, another. It had to be that way. Nothing else made any sense. Estelle was pushing him.

So this was the famous Jerome Manfred! Hiding from one woman behind another. Kate’s lips thinned and she whispered aloud in the darkness, ‘Oh no, you’re not hiding behind me!’ If Estelle wanted him, she could have him and good luck to her! She was welcome to him, and as soon as this ridiculous ‘honeymoon’ was over she, Kate, would make certain that the girl had every chance to get her heart’s desire. With a little cunning, it should be possible to land him in a nasty, sticky mess with the passionate Estelle! A small smile of unholy glee curved her mouth. It was dirty fighting—but then that was how he fought, and she
had
warned him!

Kate survived the wedding. This was, in a way a great disappointment to her, since when she had woken on Saturday morning it had been with a chill hopelessness and a definite feeling that this wasn’t happening to her, and if by some strange chance she wasn’t dreaming, then something would have to happen to stop it. Common sense told her that, short of a tidal wave, an earthquake or a second Great Fire of London, nothing was going to stop this wedding taking place, and she momentarily regretted her distaste for alcohol. It would have been so much nicer if she could have sallied forth in a haze of alcoholic oblivion.

Mrs Manfred’s cheerful ‘Good morning’ as she entered the bedroom with a breakfast tray sounded more like the knell of doom, and Kate regarded the contents of the tray with distaste. The toast looked greasy and the boiled egg was positively obscene. It wasn’t, she knew that. It was just her jaundiced eye and her wish to die this very minute that was doing this to her. The tea was hot and refreshing, though, and she drank two cups full, holding the cup in both her nerveless hands to prevent herself from dropping it.

After a hurried shower, where the hot water felt as though it had come direct from the refrigerator, she went back to the bedroom to dress and Jerome’s mother came bustling in, ready to help. Kate stood like a dressmaker’s dummy while the white silk shift was pulled over her head and smoothed down over her waist and hips. Mrs Manfred had changed her mind about the white satin and lace and had settled for a gown in white velvet, cut on mediaeval lines with a low square neckline and wide hanging sleeves. This was put on over the silk thing
^-
and while Jerome’s mother did up the countless little buttons which went all down the back of the fitted bodice, Kate looked at herself in the mirror and decided that for the sake of her own morale she would have to use a blusher on top of a creamy foundation. She could not allow herself to be seen looking like a whitewashed wall! She wasn’t going to give Jerome the satisfaction of knowing that she was scared stiff!

Mrs Jerome sat her down at the dressing table and put the finishing touches to her face. She did it in a very professional way, and at Kate’s look of wonder, she explained:

‘I always wanted to act—the theatre—but of course it wasn’t allowed. So when, much later, I had an opportunity to join an amateur dramatic society, I jumped at it. It was then I discovered that I couldn’t act! So I contented myself with being useful, I’ve the right manner for direction and I do the make-up. I think I’m quite good at it.’ She surveyed Kate’s face intently. ‘Don’t you?’

‘You’re wonderful!’ Kate looked at the healthy-looking face in the mirror and forced a smile.

Mrs Manfred had found somebody to give the bride away and Kate went down the aisle on the arm of an old gentleman with a very red face, very white hair and a military bearing. ‘Slow march, my dear,’ he whispered as he slowed her hurried pace, and through her veil she caught glimpses of a church full of people.

She made her responses in a barely audible voice. In the vestry, she signed her name with a shaking hand and was vaguely surprised that her signature was quite legible. Jerome’s kiss had been cool and contained, but the hand that held hers held it firmly so that, when they emerged into the daylight and the flash of photographers’ bulbs, she was even grateful for it.