Wild Melody (10 page)

drank some coffee to mask her growing embarrassment.

'How long have you been in London, Catriona? I may call you that?'

'I suppose so,' she said, wondering why he should want to. After all, they

were never likely to meet again. 'And I've only been in London a short

while,' she added, faltering a little as she met Moira's speculative gaze. That

was the trouble with telling lies, she reflected miserably. You had to

remember exactly what you'd said, long after it had ceased to matter. What

had she told Jeremy? She knew she had given him the impression that she

and Jason were well acquainted. And what had he told Helen, for her in turn

to pass on to Moira? The whole thing was turning into a crazy spiral to

disaster, she thought dazedly.

'Well, you've been a busy girl for a comparative newcomer,'- Roger Hunt

said, tracing the design on his saucer with an idle finger. 'Jason Lord's scalp

isn't bad going for a country mouse.'

'Scalp?' Catriona stared at him indignantly. 'I don't know what you mean.'

'Oh, come off it, love. You're not going to give me that "just good friends"

routine, are you?'

Catriona felt increasingly bewildered. 'Good friends' was hardly how she

would have described any part of her relationship with Jason, she thought.

'I don't know what you've heard,' she began. 'But I can assure you . . .'

'Oh, we've heard enough,' he said lightly. 'Don't look so overcome, sweetie.

After all, this is swinging London and not Ben Cockaleekie, or wherever

you come from. So you're shacked up with Jason Lord for a while. It

happens.

'Besides,' he went on, during the small shocked pause while Catriona tried

to collect her whirling thoughts, 'No one blames you. I wish I had whatever

it is Jason's got. I've never been the irresistible type.'

'But it wasn't like that,' Catriona broke in urgently. 'It was only one night,

and that was all a mistake . . .'

He laughed, and Moira joined in with a forced air, her eyes veiled behind

her incredibly long lashes as she watched Catriona floundering.

'Your mistake, petal, certainly not Jason's. How does he do it?' and he

whistled appreciatively.

'No!' Catriona felt as if she was in a nightmare. Somehow she had to

explain, but without mentioning the part Jeremy had played in all this.

Moira and Helen would have no more to gloat over.

'You see, I got myself stupidly stranded,' she tried again. 'Jason found out

and offered to put me up for the night. It was very kind of him—and that's all

there was to it,' she added with a touch of desperation as the pair opposite

her continued to smile.

Moira leaned forward. 'Tell me, Miss Muir, was this before or after you

appeared at his nephew's engagement party wearing a Corelli model? Who

supplied that, I wonder?'

'Well, he did, but I'm paying for it.'

'Well, that's a new twist.' Moira produced a jewelled holder from her bag

and began to fit a cigarette into it. 'It doesn't really match with the picture of

Jason as a pattern of chivalry offering shelter to homeless damsels either.'

'But he did—and now I'm doing his housework for him while his

housekeeper is away ill,' Catriona said all in a rush, and was rewarded with

complete silence from her two interrogators.

Roger Hunt's eyes were round with almost comical surprise. 'Incredible,' he

commented at last. 'It's so way out, it must be true, and it gets better and

better.' He turned to Moira, who sat stony-eyed, puffing rather jerkily at her

cigarette. 'I think our nasty suspicions have done this lovely creature an

injustice, my darling. We thought she was Jason's latest fancy and she turns

out to be the cleaning lady instead. What a disappointment!' He looked at

Catriona and smiled. 'When do you put your pinny on, then, love?'

'I start in the morning,' Catriona said wearily. She was at a loss to know how

she had ever got involved in all this. All she'd had to do was get up and walk

away, she told herself. She hadn't been obliged to answer any of their

insulting questions. But at least they knew the truth now, and wouldn't

regard her as one of Jason's cast-off mistresses.

'Fine.' Roger drained his cup and glanced at his wrist- watch. 'Time I

returned you to Hugo, Moira my pet. We'll postpone our little chat to

another less fraught occasion. Coming, Catriona?'

'No,' Catriona said steadily. The thought of coming face to face with Jason

after what had just happened appalled her. 'I—I think I'll go on home now, if

you'd just tell Sally.'

'Of course,' said Moira. She gave Catriona a brittle smile pid moved off.

Catriona watched them go. The ugly little encounter had ruined the day for

her. And what was Moira's part in all this? Just jealousy—or did she have a

particular reason for wanting to know Catriona's exact relationship to Jason?

Riding home on the underground, Catriona had the odd conviction that

Moira would have preferred her to admit that she had slept with Jason, and

so was firmly in his past and no longer part of the competition.

'As if I ever was,' she thought wryly, and wondered why the-reflection was

not nearly as comforting as it should have been.

CATRIONA didn't have time to feel embarrassed when she arrived at Jason's

flat the following morning. She had overslept after a strangely disturbed

night and so missed the tube train she had wanted to catch and was forced to

wait several minutes for the next.

Jason was waiting in the hall, his leather coat over his shoulders, smoking

impatiently.

'So you've come,' he said rather coldly, his eyes going over her, taking in the

familiar shabby jeans and the black polo-necked sweater.

'Did you doubt it?' she countered.

'I began to wonder.'

He led the way into the kitchen and gave her a swift briefing on where to

find all the things she would be most likely to need.

'Do what you think is necessary,' he told her. 'But don't touch the papers on

my desk in the study. I'll sort them myself tonight. And don't take it as a

personal affront. Mrs Birch has exactly the same instructions,' he added

irritably, as Catriona bit her lip at the harshness in his voice.

'I've written the studio number and my extension on the pad by the phone.

Ring if you get into difficulties,' he said, and was gone.

The flat seemed very quiet when she was alone. She wandered around

getting acclimatised, and decided to make a start on Jason's bedroom. She

found fresh fitted under- sheets and pillowcases in the well-stocked linen

cupboard and began to strip the big bed. It was a simple task, as the only

coverlet was a continental quilt, similar to the one in the other room where

she had slept.

Its cover was luxuriously patterned in black and silver and Catriona admired

it as she made the bed and patted the quilt into place. She decided she would

try her hand at washing the bed linen. Her trips to the launderette with Sally

had conquered any misgivings about the automatic washing machine in the

kitchen. She collected the bedding, and towels together and looked round

for Jason's pyjamas. After she had searched the bathroom for them without

success, she realised that he must sleep without them, and the realisation

made her feel hot with embarrassment. It was typical of his lack of

convention, she thought.

By ten o'clock, the bedrooms and bathroom were sparkling and she was

ready to start on the living room. First, she felt she deserved a cup of coffee,

but after dubiously eyeing the gleaming electric percolator, she decided to

stick to the instant variety that she found in the back of a cupboard. She was

just adding milk and sugar to her brew when the doorbell rang. Catriona

hesitated. She had not been told how to deal with callers, but on the other

hand she was in a way deputising for Mrs Birch, so she marched to the front

door and threw it open.

She was amazed to see Roger Hunt and another man standing on the step.

'You!' she commented unwelcomingly.

'Surprise, surprise.' Roger moved forward, his hands tucked into his trouser

belt. He gave her a charming grin. 'Are you going to let us in, sweetie?'

'Certainly not.' Catriona made to shut the door, but unaccountably Roger's

foot was in the way.

'Oh, come on, love, have a heart,' he said. 'After all, it was you gave me the

idea. We're running a feature on pretty girls who earn their livings

in—er—unusual ways, and we'd like you to be one of them—if you'll let us

use you.'

'Use me?' Catriona stared at him. 'What in the world can you mean?'

'You know.' He sounded impatient. 'A few carefully chosen words—a

couple of pictures and a nice little fee for you if we decide to run the piece.'

'Absolutely not!' Catriona was horrified/

'But why? There's no harm,' he urged. 'Just a few minutes of your time, that's

all.'

There was a click and Catriona saw that the other man was lowering an

efficient-looking camera.

'See—painless,' Roger said airily.

'You had no right to do that!' Catriona flamed.

'Well, you just say the word we want to hear and it will all be above board,

won't it,' Roger said calmly. 'Greg and I aren't here to upset you, love. We

could help each other. We get a feature, and you get a cheque which

probably wouldn't come amiss.'

'But I don't do this for a living,' Catriona protested. 'I start my real job on

Monday.'

'You worry too much,' Roger said soothingly. 'There is such a thing as

artistic licence, you know. And you're here with your pinny on as promised.'

'If I say yes, will you get it over with and go?' Catriona asked wearily, and he

brightened.

'Naturally.' He walked past her into the hall and looked rouitd. 'Nice place,

Greg. Lord by nature as well as name, by the look of things.' He turned to

Catriona. 'Is that coffee I can smell?'

'I suppose so,' Catriona sighed, pushing her hair back in defeat.

While they were drinking their coffee in the kitchen, she made an excuse

and went to Jason's study. It was important to get his agreement to this, she

thought as she dialled the number he had left. But when she was put through

to his extension, there was a setback in store. Diane answered and told her

that Mr Lord was watching the recording of
Under the Skin
, the play Sally

was in, and couldn't be disturbed. Catriona put the phone down With another

sigh.

Back in the kitchen she submitted to being photographed transferring the

washing from the machine to the neighbouring tumble drier, then obediently

pretended to vacuum the sitting room carpet. But when Roger decided a

bed-making picture was required as well, she rebelled.

'I've already made the beds. It's ridiculous,' she protested.

'Artistic licence, sweetie. I did warn you.' Roger ushered her firmly towards

Jason's bedroom where she posed wearily, smoothing the quilt and shaking

up the pillows, while she answered questions from Roger on her life in

Scotland and her views on London. Then, tilting her chin in a way Mrs

McGregor would have recognised, she called a halt.

'I'm supposed to be working, and you've taken up enough of my time,' she

said firmly.

Roger lifted a hand. And we've a deadline to catch, so we'll leave you in

peace. Thanks for your co-operation, my sweet.' And to Catriona's surprise

and annoyance, he kissed her carelessly on the cheek.

'The nerve of him!' she muttered, as she closed the door behind them.

The interruption had held her up for over an hour and a half she realised

with annoyance as she set to work again. But by early afternoon, there was

only Jason's study left to do, she realised thankfully.

It was an attractive room, carpeted in deep red, the walls lined with shelves

of books. The centrepiece was the desk, even more littered with papers than

the one at the studio had been, Catriona thought as she vacuumed the floor-

length curtains. Though her hands itched to tidy them, she obeyed her

instructions implicitly and contented herself with dusting all the-other

available surfaces instead.

She had just changed the nozzle on the cleaner before starting on the carpet

when it happened. As she straightened, the handle of the cleaner caught the

corner of the desk and a pile of papers went cascading to the floor.

'Oh no!' Catriona went down on her knees and began to gather them

together. As she did so, she noticed at first incuriously and then with

growing interest that the sheets she was holding were typed like the pages of

dialogue in Sally's script. As she looked more closely, she realised that it

was part of a play and she began to read. The scene she had chanced on was

a confrontation between a woman and her husband who had just discovered