as escorts for her.
But basically, she had had no training to follow a career. Her father had never wanted her to become an intellectual, and so her eager mind had had to content itself with learning from books, and the core of dissatisfaction with her empty way of life had been born.
She might never have been courageous enough to do something about it, however, had not her father decided that it was high time she was thinking of getting married. In his usual overbearing way he had produced three young men for her to choose from, but none of them were the kind of man Juliet wanted to marry. She was looking for no knight in shining armour, no gallant paramour to live in a rosy world of romance for the rest of her days. But she did want a man, not some weak-chinned facsimile, who was quite content to allow her father to provide him with every material need in return for marrying his daughter.
She felt an angry sense of injustice, at the remembrance of it all, and then calmed down as she realized she had done the only thing she could, in the circumstances.
The interview had been amusing, though. She had had to remember that her name was now Rosemary Summers and not Juliet Lindsay, and it had been difficult assuming her new identity for the first time. She felt grateful to Rosemary too. She and Rosemary Summers had attended the same boarding school, although Rosemary’s parents were both doctors, and Rosemary had followed in their footsteps and was at present a medical student. She and Juliet had always been close friends, even though Juliet’s father had attempted to discourage that friendship. He had not considered the Summers suitable associates for his daughter, but in this Juliet had been adamant and so her friendship with Rosemary had continued. They met often, and shared their experiences, Juliet envying the other girl’s freedom and her chance to carve a career for herself.
When Robert Lindsay’s campaign turned to the subject of Juliet’s marriage, Juliet poured out all her troubles to Rosemary. Rosemary was sympathetic, listening with her calm, intelligent mind, weighing up the situation, as she would weigh up a patient’s complaints. Then she had said:
‘If I were you, I would get a job, anything, just so long as I had some independence.’
Juliet sighed. ‘That’s all very well for you to say, Rosemary, but he wouldn’t let me do that! Heavens, he’d very likely buy up whoever was employing me, and then give me the sack!’
Rosemary smiled. ‘Oh, Juliet,’ she said, shaking her head, ‘there must be something you can do. Somewhere you could go, where he has no influence!’
‘Not in this country,’ remarked Juliet gloomily.
‘Then out of it,’ said Rosemary reasonably.
‘But how?’
‘I don’t know.’ Rosemary had lit a cigarette before replying, studying its tip with concentration. ‘There are always heaps of jobs available for governesses and nannies which entail travel.’
‘But I couldn’t be either of them,’ exclaimed Juliet. ‘I’ve had no training for a job like that!’
Rosemary had had to agree, so the problem had remained unsolved until Juliet read the advertisement for this job which had appeared in The Times. She had rung Rosemary and told her, and over a prolonged lunch break they had discussed the pros and cons.
‘You must realize that there’ll be heaps of applicants for a position like this,’ said Rosemary, dousing some of Juliet’s enthusiasm.
‘Even so, it is a long way away,’ Juliet had answered. ‘Lots of girls won’t want to work so far away from home.’
‘Maybe,’ said Rosemary doubtfully. ‘But what about your father?’
‘He wouldn’t know anything about it until I’d gone,’ said Juliet, with decision. ‘If I told him he’d only try to stop me.’
‘And don’t you think he will anyway?’ exclaimed Rosemary. ‘It will be the easiest thing in the world for him to trace you there.’
‘Oh, yes, I suppose you’re right. My passport and booking and everything!’ Juliet heaved a sigh.
‘Of course.’ Rosemary studied her sympathetically. ‘Oh, Juliet, I don’t know what to say.’
Juliet lifted her shoulders, lighting herself a cigarette. ‘What is there to say?’ she said moodily. Then, as though mesmerized, an idea caused her to allow the match to burn her fingers. ‘Ouch!’ she gasped, rubbing the injured finger. ‘Rosemary, I have had an idea! The perfect solution, in fact. If you’re agreeable!’
Rosemary lay back in her seat. ‘Go on. What is it?’
‘Well,’ Juliet ran her tongue over her lips excitedly, ‘how about my using your passport?’
Rosemary sat up in astonishment. ‘My passport!’ she echoed.
Juliet nodded vigorously. ‘Yes. Oh yes, Rosemary. It’s the perfect solution! You know how alike people have always said we are, same hair, same height, same colouring! Those passport photographs are notoriously terrible. No one studies them in detail.’
‘They do,’ exclaimed Rosemary indignantly. ‘But maybe so far as the photo is concerned you might get away with it. It isn’t a very good likeness of me.’
‘You see!’ Juliet’s eyes were alight. ‘Your hair is the same colour as mine, and all I’d have to do is wind mine up in that pleat you wear. We’re both quite tall and slim, and our colouring is practically the same.
‘Your tan is deeper,’ returned Rosemary dryly, ‘but then I haven’t just spent three weeks in the South of France.’
Juliet sighed, and gave a wry smile. ‘You may not believe this, Rosemary, but I’d rather be you than me any day of the week!’
Rosemary looked contrite. ‘I know, I know,’ she said, feeling sorry for what she had hinted. It was true, Juliet did not consider herself lucky. Compared to Rosemary, Juliet’s life was empty. ‘It would mean you adopting my identity,’ she continued thoughtfully.
Juliet’s young face darkened. ‘Oh, yes, it would,’ she said slowly. ‘Damn!’
‘Well, that’s not insuperable,’ replied Rosemary consideringly. ‘After all, no one knows your name there, or mine either, for that matter. You could be Rosemary Summers; it’s not such an uncommon name.’
Juliet looked at her with wide eyes. ‘I really believe you’re considering it,’ she exclaimed. ‘Oh, Rosemary, would you? Would you really?’
Rosemary gave a grimace. ‘Well, I don’t see how I can refuse,’ she replied dryly. ‘I’m very fond of you, Juliet, and although we’re the same age, I always feel years older than you. I don’t want to see you forced mentally, if not exactly physically, into an unhappy marriage. There are too many of them around already, and I know that men like Roger Latimer and Stephen Longdon and that awful Jeremy McVane would bore you stiff!’
Juliet clasped her hands together. ‘Do you really think I might get away with it?’ she exclaimed.
Rosemary shrugged. ‘Well, you’ve got to get the job first,’ she replied practically. ‘And quite honestly, with your appearance I doubt whether you’d even be considered!’
Juliet
