Dangerous Enchantment. Anne MatherЧитать онлайн книгу.
and sliding in beside her. Giving her a swift kiss, he said: “I know I’m going to be the most envied man there tonight.”
Julie chuckled. “Really! That’s not very modest.”
Paul stared at her uncomprehendingly for a moment, and then sighed.
“Oh, you’re mocking me again. You know what I mean!”
She laughed. “Oh, Paul, I must stop teasing you.”
She lay back in her seat as Paul threaded his way through the London traffic towards Earl’s Court. It was a little after seven-thirty and the roads teemed with cars. But Julie felt singularly content, and very lucky. Here she was, twenty-one years of age, and on her way to spend the evening with a handsome young man who was obviously in love with her. She had a secure and happy background, and what more could any girl ask for? If her own feelings for Paul were a little bit nebulous at the moment, they would change, and she had no doubts that in the fullness of time she and Paul would marry and get a house in one of the new developments in the suburbs, and eventually raise a family of their own.
Paul’s job was exciting, too. He worked for an independent television company, and although at the moment his work seemed to encompass a variety of duties, as he grew older and more experienced, he would very likely be able to gain a more palpable position. He was clever, if a little studious sometimes, and she had no doubt that his efforts would not go unrewarded. But money, to Julie, was unimportant compared to happiness. Her parents had never been well off, but she had never lacked for love and companionship, and these were the important things. Paul’s obsession with gaining a better job with more money was no doubt due to his desire to marry and settle down, and be able to provide a good home for his family, but Julie hoped that was all it was. She had attended a boarding school, despite the monetary difficulties and had witnessed plenty of heartbreak amongst girls with far more money than herself. Their parents, for example, had never attended open days, and when holidays came around they were sent off on cruises with only nannies to keep them company. Julie had appreciated the welcome she received from her parents, and their obvious delight in having her home again.
When she left school, she had decided to work in a large store in Oxford Street. She liked meeting people, and it was through her work she had met Samantha Edwards. Samantha was now her closest friend. She had come into the Cosmetics Department where Julie worked for make-up and perfume, and then discovered that she and Julie had attended the same school, although Samantha was a couple of years older, and the daughter of a merchant banker. Her parents were divorced, and Samantha herself was now married to an artist called Benedict Barlow.
Thinking about artists brought Julie back to tonight’s festivities. It was the annual staff dance at Phoenix Television, and naturally Paul had wanted to go. Julie was looking forward to it. As it was being held at the studios she was curious; she had never been inside a television studio before.
Phoenix Television stood in its own court off Warwick Road, and it did not take Paul long to drive there. Within the area gates was a huge car-park and it was here, among an assortment of cars large and small, that Paul left the Austin. It was a cold October evening, and Julie hugged Paul’s arm as they crossed to the welcoming lights of the huge building with Phoenix Television neon-lighted somewhere near the top.
Inside a doorman admitted them, checked their invitations, and then directed them to a lift which whisked them up to the twelfth floor.
“A whole floor has been given over to our largest studio,” said Paul, in explanation, “and it’s there they’re holding the dance. Plenty of room.”
Julie nodded. They were the only people in the lift, and she hoped they would not be the first to arrive. The invitation had said seven-thirty, but as the food was to be provided by a buffet, there was no deadline. She was just about to ask Paul whether it would perhaps be better if they delayed their arrival when the lift stopped with a jerk. They had reached the twelfth floor.
Music was the first thing Julie noticed. The band sounded wonderful and she shed her doubts about their early arrival and followed Paul along a corridor which was thronged with people. At the far end a huge hall awaited them, and despite Julie’s fears it was obviously well on the way to being crowded. Everyone was drinking and laughing and talking, and there was a welcoming air of camaraderie.
A friendly attendant showed Julie the way to the ladies’ powder room, where she could leave her coat and attend to her make-up. It, too, was crowded with women, all expensively garbed and jewelled. Diamonds flashed on ears and throats and fingers, and Julie fingered her silver bracelet, which was her only adornment, tentatively. She owned very little jewellery, and had not thought to ask her mother to lend her a necklace. Shrugging her slim shoulders, she made her way to the door again. It was no use worrying now; she must just hope she looked all right as she was.
Back along the corridor Paul was waiting for her impatiently, but he was not alone. With him were another young couple whom he introduced as Larry and Jane Chandler. “Larry works here, too,” he explained to Julie. “He and Jane have only been married three weeks.”
“Have you? How marvellous,” exclaimed Julie enthusiastically.
Jane smiled. She was a pretty redhead, with an engagingly piquant face. “Yes, Julie. And now we’re going round all our friends recommending it.” She glanced archly at Paul. “Haven’t you thought of taking the plunge yet, Paul?”
Paul smiled. “Several times.” He looked at Julie. “Especially during the last few months.”
Julie flushed and changed the subject. For all her gentle imaginings earlier in the evening, she was not quite ready yet to forsake her freedom and settle down to married life with Paul. Always, when it came down to it she felt a strange cautioning feeling deep inside her, as though she were not quite sure yet of her feelings for him. Maybe she was expecting too much, she thought. After all, she was very fond of Paul, and knew he would make a marvellous husband. He was considerate and kind, and liked children. But somehow she was afraid.
At the far end of the hall, spread out on several long tables which seemed to be groaning under the weight, was the buffet. There was every kind of food imaginable, from lobster paté and caviare to meat balls in savoury mushroom gravy, served in deep little bowls with wooden spoons.
There was plenty to drink, too, and as it was provided free by the company, there was no shortage of takers. Staying with the Chandlers, Julie and Paul found a vacant table near the dance floor, and ordered Martinis from a white-clad attendant.
The band was accommodated on a dais at the opposite end of the hall from the buffet, and tables had been set all along the side of the floor. Adjoining this hall, was a smaller area, screened off and available for anyone who wished for a little more privacy. Discreet lighting made the cavernous studio into an Aladdin’s cave, and the brightly coloured dresses and sparkling jewels added an air of festivity.
Paul smiled round. “We’ve made quite a good turnout, haven’t we?” he said, and Larry grinned, as though amused by Paul’s identification of himself with the company.
The girls talked about clothes, and the latest Robert Redford film, and later Paul took Julie to meet a couple of producers and their wives with whom he had worked, and Julie felt a little disturbed by Paul’s obvious pride in herself. They returned to Larry and Jane, and as quite a lot of people were dancing now, Larry asked Julie whether she would dance with him.
Julie agreed, and Paul followed suit and asked Jane. Afterwards they exchanged partners regularly, and made the evening more enjoyable. Larry and Paul were both good dancers, and between dances the girls talked together and listened to the boys talking shop.
Jane grimaced, and said: “Have you noticed how people in television think there’s no other kind of existence?” she laughed. “Be warned, Julie. If you marry Paul, you’ll have to suffer this kind of thing every time you meet a colleague. Can you stand it?”
Julie flushed. “I don’t know. Is it to be recommended?”
“Well, that depends on the man.” Jane frowned, and leaned towards her. “I think