she reached for and picked up the phone, punching in the numbers with sharp, staccato movements. The nerve-racking brr-brr started on the other end of the line.
Would he be home at six on a Monday night? Audrey thought anxiously as the ringing continued. She had reasoned he should be. It was too early to go out to dinner and late enough to have come home if he’d gone out for the day. It was dark at six in July in Sydney, winter well and truly set in. With each successive ring, her agitation increased. One part of her wanted him to answer. The other hoped he’d gone to Switzerland for the rest of the winter.
On the seventh ring, someone answered.
Audrey held her breath.
A male voice repeated the number she had just rung.
She expelled the held breath in a rush. ‘El...Elliot?’
There was a short sharp silence that sent Audrey’s tension up and off the scale.
‘Audrey? Is that you?’ he questioned with a manner that suggested he was not pleased she had rung.
This was no less than she had expected. ‘Yes, it’s me,’ she said, and fell painfully silent.
‘Well?’ he prodded at last. ‘What can I do for you?’ His tone was cool and she suddenly realised she was about to make a big fool of herself. Yet to fail was unthinkable. She just couldn’t face Lavinia with the news that Elliot wasn’t coming.
‘I...I have this problem.’
‘Yes?’
God, he wasn’t making it easy for her, was he?
More feelings of pre-emptive failure flooded in, totally swamping her. He was going to say no. Why should she humiliate herself by asking in the first place?
Her heart turned over in wild desolation. If only she were beautiful and sexy. If only Elliot wasn’t rich, and needed her money—like Russell. If only there were some way she could make him genuinely want to come.
‘You...you said I could call if I needed help.’
‘Yes?’
‘I...I do.’
‘In what way?’
Audrey took a deep breath. And the plunge. ‘Remember I mentioned I was turning twenty-one soon? Well, it’s this Friday and Lavinia has organised a special dinner party for me that evening here, at home. I was going to bring Russell, you see, and now I don’t have anyone to be my date and I thought that...that... Well, I hoped you might fill in in Russell’s absence.’
She held her breath and waited for his answer.
‘I thought I made it clear, Audrey,’ he ground out, ‘that I’m not in the market for filling in for Russell, in any capacity.’
Audrey was glad Elliot couldn’t see the heat zooming into her cheeks. She wished he hadn’t used quite those words. It sent the most amazingly explicit and arousing images to her mind.
‘Isn’t there anyone else you can invite?’ His tone was frustrated. ‘Someone your own age?’
‘Not really,’ she replied, making a huge effort to get a hold of herself. ‘No one I’d be proud of. And Elliot, I want to be proud of my date, don’t you see? It’s...it’s very important to me.’ Audrey knew this final plea was hitting below the belt. Out of desperation she was deliberating playing on Elliot’s capacity for compassion.
His sigh was one of weary resignation. ‘Yes, I do see. Unfortunately... Very well, Audrey. Give me your address and tell me what time I’m expected. And perhaps your last name might be a good idea. I never did find that out.’
Success brought both triumph and a measure of agitation. He was coming. He was actually coming. Shivers of unbidden excitement ran up and down her spine.
Audrey somehow managed to give him her home address at Newport, her full name of Audrey Henrietta Farnsworth, as well as her phone number—just in case a disaster prevented his coming. But please, lord, no disasters, she prayed!
‘Could you be here soon after seven?’ she requested breathlessly. ‘We’re having drinks before dinner. Oh, and wear a dinner-jacket. It’s formal.’
When he hesitated again, she said worriedly, ‘You do have a dinner-jacket, don’t you?’
There was a smile in his voice when he answered. ‘Yes, Audrey, I have a dinner-jacket.’
‘I thought you might. Considering...’
‘Considering what?’
‘Considering you’re rich and...well...obviously given to socialising.’
‘I haven’t been doing much of that lately,’ he muttered. ‘Perhaps I should have. And what are you going to wear, Audrey? Does formal mean a long dress?’
‘Long dresses are out at the moment. Calf-length are in. I’m not sure what I’ll wear yet. I was going to go shopping with Lavinia on Thursday after work. I’ll probably end up buying something glitzy. Lavinia says glitz is definitely in.’ Audrey stopped to draw breath. She knew she was babbling, but nerves affected her that way sometimes.
‘Has it ever occurred to you that what’s in might not suit you?’ came his drawled remark. ‘Or that Lavinia might choose something that suits her, not you?’
‘Yes,’ she confessed. ‘That has ocurred to me, actually.’
‘Well, why not buy something all by yourself, something you like?’
This idea still flustered her, because she truly had no confidence where her own taste was concerned. ‘I’d like to,’ she said unhappily. ‘The trouble is I...I’m never sure what to buy. The sales ladies tell you everything looks nice and in the end I feel totally confused. I bought an evening dress by myself not long ago and Lavinia said it was a disaster. Totally lifeless and dreary on me.’
‘What colour was it?’
‘Plain cream, in a sort of silk material.’
‘And the style?’
‘Nothing spectacular. Long tight sleeves, fitted bodice, boat neck, lowish back. The skirt flares out.’
‘Do you still have it?’
‘Y...yes, but—’
‘Let me make a suggestion,’ he cut in forcibly. ‘Wear it! Cream sounds a perfect colour for you. Put your hair up and wear plain gold earrings. No other jewellery, not even a watch. Neutral shades around your eyes. Plenty of blusher. Bronze lipstick and nail polish. Got that?’
‘Well, yes...but...but...what are you,’ she asked with a nervous laugh, ‘an expert on women’s fashions?’
‘No. An expert on women.’
Her heart skipped a beat. She didn’t doubt him for a moment.
For
