to explore every facet of our relationship? We get on well together, you know that’s true. Our interests – our tastes – are similar. Why shouldn’t our marriage be as successful as anyone else’s?’
Tamar bit her lip. ‘I don’t know, Ben. I used to think – oh, what’s the use? Can I have a cigarette, please?’
Ben handed her his case, and she extracted one and lit it from the combined lighter. Then she slid her arm through his.
‘Let’s not be serious tonight, Ben. There’s the party yet. It was sweet of you to arrange it, and I don’t want us to feel estranged tonight.’
‘Estranged!’ Ben gave her a weary look. ‘I wanted to announce our engagement tonight!’
‘Oh, Ben!’
‘Well, it’s true! Tamar, can’t you accept what we have?’
Tamar pressed her hands to her cheeks. ‘You’ve got to give me time, Ben.’
‘How much time do you need?’
Tamar saw the look of strain on his handsome face and felt remorse. ‘All right, Ben,’ she said slowly. ‘Give me till tonight – till the party. You can take me back to the apartment, I’ve got to change, and I’ll give you my answer when you come to collect me – right?’
Ben stared at her. ‘You mean that?’
‘Of course.’
He nodded, and finished his drink swiftly.
As they moved outside again, Tamar drawing her coat closer about her to counteract the chilly, misty atmosphere outside, he said softly:
‘In spite of my impetuosity, I want you to know, if your answer is no, I’ve still got to go on seeing you!’
Tamar looked up at him. ‘Ben?’ she murmured.
‘Well, that’s how it is with me. I mean – don’t break with me because of this. If – if we can never be more than friends, then let us at least remain that. Don’t think I would let this come between us.’
‘Oh, Ben!’ Tamar shook her head, feeling the prick of tears behind her eyes. ‘Why me? Why me?’
Ben shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I’m just crazy that way, I guess.’
Tamar’s apartment was in a new block overlooking Regent’s Park, and she left Ben in the vestibule.
‘I’ll be ready in an hour,’ she said, and he nodded and left her.
The apartment on the fourth floor was inhabited by Tamar and a certain Emma Latimer, who acted as maid, cook-housekeeper, and companion, all rolled into one. Of uncertain age, Emma had answered an advertisement that Tamar had put in The Times two years ago when her income first began to stretch to living proportions. Supplementing her income with commercial undertakings, Tamar had been able to take this apartment, and employ Emma for a very small salary. She had hardly believed her good fortune at obtaining a treasure like Emma for such a small remuneration, and it was not until later, when they became friends, that she discovered that Emma had spent her whole life caring for ailing parents, and only death had provided her release. Ill-equipped as she was to face a world where qualifications counted for so much, the advertisement had been a blessing for both of them.
Now Emma’s wages were more than adequate, and the apartment was furnished as Tamar had always dreamed it would be. Entering the minute hallway, Tamar removed her overcoat before entering the huge lounge and calling:
‘Emma! I’m home!’
Emma Latimer emerged from the kitchen. Her mousy hair was drawn back into a bun, and she always wore the most unfashionable clothes, but to Tamar she was much more than a servant, she was the nearest thing to a mother she had ever known.
‘Well!’ said Emma now. ‘It’s over, is it?’
Tamar nodded, and seated herself on the couch, stretching out her long slim legs and kicking off her shoes.
‘Well, I’ve just made some tea. Do you want a cup?’
Tamar smiled, and then said: ‘Yes, please. Then I must have a bath. Ben is calling back for me in less than an hour.’
The tea was hot and strong, like Emma always made it, and Tamar sipped hers gratefully. It was heaven to relax and not have to think of anything for a few minutes.
Emma hovered in the background, and Tamar said: ‘Sit down, Emma. I want to talk to you.’
Emma hesitated, shrugged, and then perched on the edge of a chair. ‘Yes. What about?’
Tamar lay back lazily. ‘Ben has asked me to marry him.’
Emma made a resigned gesture. ‘You don’t surprise me.’
Tamar smiled. Emma was always so outright. ‘No, I don’t suppose I do,’ she said now. ‘The point is – should I?’
Emma shrugged. ‘That’s for you to decide.’
Tamar looked impatient. ‘I know it. But – well, what do you think?’
Emma bent her head and studied her neat fingernails. ‘You want my opinion?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then I should say if you need my opinion – the answer should be no.’
Tamar frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, stands to reason doesn’t it? I mean – if you really wanted to marry Mr. Hastings, you wouldn’t ask me my opinion. You’d just tell me.’
‘Oh, Emma!’ Tamar stood down her cup and got to her feet. ‘You make everything sound so easy.’
‘Well, so it should be. It’s no use marrying the young man if you’ve any doubts. There’s too many of those unhappy marriages already, if you ask me.’
‘It strikes me they should have asked you,’ retorted Tamar, with some sarcasm, and Emma allowed herself a discreet chuckle.
‘I’m sorry if it’s not the answer you wanted, Miss Tamar,’ she said, sighing. ‘But you did ask me.’
‘Yes, I did,’ conceded Tamar unhappily. ‘Even so, I’m not sure you’re right. Marriage is a big step. And you’re the only one I could ask.’
Emma shrugged. ‘Well, Miss Tamar, no one can make the decision for you.’
‘I know,’ Tamar nodded.
‘There never was a woman who knew her own mind first off,’ remarked Emma, with some perspicacity. ‘I don’t see why you shouldn’t marry Mr. Hastings, mind. He’s a nice young man, good-looking, kind, and certainly you’d have no money problems. It all depends what you’re looking for. Personally, I never liked fair men. I like a man to be dark, dark-skinned, dark-eyed and dark-haired!’
Tamar felt an awful tugging inside her suddenly
