stared up into his handsome face. ‘Go away, Professor. I don’t like you and I hope I never see you again.’
She had spoken quietly but she looked daggers at him. She turned her back then, surprised at how upset she felt. After all, she hadn’t liked him the first time, and she couldn’t care less if he jeered at the dress or liked it. If Oscar liked it, that was all that mattered, she told herself, not believing a word of it. But presently, when Oscar had finished his conversation, she went with him to the hotel ballroom, to be sat on one of the little gilt chairs and told to wait awhile until he had the leisure to dance with her.
A not very promising prospect—but quickly lightened by a number of men who, seeing a pretty girl sitting by herself, danced her off in rapid succession. Which served Oscar right by the time he found himself ready to partner her.
‘Some of these modern dances are not dignified,’ he told her severely, propelling her round the ballroom with correct stiffness. ‘You would have done better to have sat quietly until I was free to come to you.’
‘But I like to dance, Oscar.’
‘Dancing in moderation is splendid exercise,’ said Oscar, at his stuffiest.
They came to a dignified halt as the music stopped. Julia spoke her thoughts out loud. ‘Do you want to marry me, Oscar?’ she asked.
He looked at her with astonishment and displeasure.
‘My dear Julia, what a very—very…’ he sought for the right word ‘…unwomanly remark to make. I must only hope it was a slight aberration of the tongue.’
‘It wasn’t anything to do with my tongue; it was a thought in my head.’ She looked at him. ‘You haven’t answered me, Oscar?’
‘I have no intention of doing so. I am shocked, Julia. Perhaps you should retire to the ladies’ room and compose yourself.’
‘You sound like someone in a Victorian novel,’ she told him. ‘But, yes, I think that would be best.’
The ballroom was at the back of the hotel; it took her a few moments to find the cloakroom where the Professor had left her wrap. She would have to take a bus, she hadn’t enough money for a taxi, but it wasn’t late and there were plenty of people about. She wrapped the vast mohair shawl she and her sisters shared for evening occasions round her and crossed the foyer, comfortably full of people. And halfway to the door the Professor, apparently appearing from thin air, put a hand on her arm.
‘Not leaving already?’he wanted to know. ‘It’s barely an hour since you arrived.’
She had to stop, his hand, resting so lightly on her arm, nevertheless reminding her of a ball and chain. She said politely, ‘Yes, I’m leaving, Professor.’ She looked at his hand. ‘Goodbye.’
He took no notice; neither did he remove his hand.
‘You’re upset; you have the look of someone about to explode. I’ll take you home.’
‘No, thank you. I’m quite capable of getting myself home.’
For answer he tucked her hand under his elbow. ‘Your Oscar will come looking for you,’ he said mildly.
‘He’s not my Oscar…’
‘Ah, I can’t say that I’m surprised. Now, come along. This is indeed a splendid excuse for me to leave with you—a pompous dinner with endless speeches to which I have been bidden.’
He had propelled her gently past the doorman, out into the chilly night and, after towing her along gently, popped her into his car, parked nearby.
Getting in beside her, he asked, ‘Are you going to cry?’
‘Certainly not. And I have no wish to be here in your car. You are being high-handed, Professor.’She sniffed. ‘I’m not a child.’
He looked at her, smiling a little. ‘No, I had realised that. Are you hungry?’
She was taken by surprise. ‘Yes…’
‘Splendid. And, since you are not going to cry and I’m hungry too, we will go and eat somewhere.’
‘No,’ said Julia.
‘My dear girl, be sensible. It’s the logical thing to do.’
He started the car. ‘Let us bury the hatchet for an hour or so. You are free to dislike me the moment I see you to your front door.’
She was hungry, so the prospect of a meal was tempting. She said, ‘Well, all right, but not anywhere grand—the curtain…’
He said quietly, ‘I’m sorry I said that. You look very nice and it was unforgivable of me. We will go somewhere you won’t need to be uneasy.’
He sounded kind and her spirits lifted. Perhaps he wasn’t so bad… He spoilt it by adding, ‘Is your entire wardrobe made up of curtains?’He glanced at her. ‘You must be a very talented young lady.’
She was on the point of making a fiery answer when the thought of a meal crossed her mind. She had no idea why he had asked her out and she didn’t care; she would choose all the most expensive things on the menu…
He took her to Wilton’s, spoke quietly to the maître d’, and followed her to one of the booths, so that any fears concerning her dress were instantly put at rest.
‘Now, what shall we have?’asked the Professor, well aware of her relief that the booth sheltered her nicely from the other diners. ‘I can recommend the cheese soufflé, and the sole Meunière is excellent.’ When she agreed he ordered from the waitress and turned his attention to the sommelier and the wine list. Which gave Julia a chance to study the menu. She need not have bothered to choose the most expensive food; everything was expensive.
When it came it was delicious, and cooked by a master hand. She thought fleetingly of Oscar, and applied herself to her dinner, and, being nicely brought up, made polite conversation the while. The Professor replied suitably, amused at that and wondering what had possessed him to take her to dinner. He went out seldom, and when he did his companion would be one of his numerous acquaintances: elegant young women, dressed impeccably, bone-thin and fussing delicately about what they could and couldn’t eat.
Julia, on the other hand, ate everything she was offered with an unselfconscious pleasure, and capped the sole with sherry trifle and drank the wine he had ordered. And that loosed her tongue, for presently, over coffee, she asked, ‘If you are Dutch, why do you live in England?’
‘I only do so for part of the time. My home is in Holland and I work there as well. I shall be going back there in a few weeks’ time for a month or so.’
‘How very unsettling,’observed Julia. ‘But I suppose you are able to pick and choose if you are a Professor?’
‘I suppose I can,’ he agreed mildly. ‘What are you going to do about Oscar?’
‘I dare say he won’t find me a suitable wife for a junior partner…’
‘And will that break your heart?’
‘No.
