TWENTY-EIGHT
“So,” said Conrad, leaning back in his chair and indicating that he was bringing the meeting to a close, “I want every effort put into this. As you already know, it’s an account that used to belong to this shop, and I want it back again. I’ve every confidence in you, but it’s going to be a tough one. Practically every other agency in town will be making a pitch, so it’s up to you to make sure it comes our way. I want round-the-clock effort, no excuses, and every ounce of talent in your pretty little heads working towards it. You don’t need me to tell you how many millions are at stake, and I want them.” He looked at Ashley. “Candice will give you the available figures as you leave,” Ashley nodded and Conrad continued: “They will impress upon you how serious I am about getting Mercer Burgess Insurance back at Frazier, Nelmes, if I haven’t done so sufficiently already. As soon as anyone feels they’re onto something, and I expect that to be within the next forty-eight hours, then bring it to me. I shall be taking a personal interest in this one, and if I’m not here, then Candice will know where to reach me. So as I said, it’s up to you now, go to it!” and he smiled.
Bill Fownest, the President of Frazier, Nelmes, New York, stood up and catching Ashley’s eye winked at her. He loved it when the agency was involved in a pitch of this stature. It made his blood race, and gave him a greater high than anything else – with perhaps one, maybe two exceptions. He watched Ashley as she gathered up her papers. If he wasn’t greatly mistaken then she was already accumulating and discarding ideas in that brain of hers, and he’d wager she was looking forward to this as much as he was. He had heard how it was largely down to her that Frazier, Nelmes in London had clinched the lucrative Newslink account, and he was interested to see what she would come up with this time. She had a good creative team under her here in New York, and in the short time she had been here she had already earned a healthy respect from them, and, indeed, the twenty or so other Exec VPs in the company. Shame she didn’t get along so well with Conrad, but it didn’t seem to bother her any, so what the hell.
“Ashley!” Conrad was standing behind his desk.
She stopped at the door and turned back. So did a couple of the others, though from the look on Conrad’s face they could see that whatever he had to say to Ashley, it was no concern of theirs. Quickly they left the room.
Conrad picked up his pen and began to write something on the pad in front of him. He looked up, and again she had that feeling that he was sizing her up.
“This is the biggest challenge you have had since you’ve been in New York,” he began, “so I thought you might be wondering why I have assigned this particular pitch to you.”
Like hell she was wondering, hadn’t she been busting a gut, as Jan put it, to try and make sure this one came her way? She waited for him to go on.
“I don’t want to have to spell it out,” he said, and she wished his face was a little less grim. “I think you are already well aware of the importance of winning, and although your track record in London speaks for itself, I want you to remember that you’re in New York now, where standards are high, and those that don’t rise to them go. We can’t afford to lose this one and it would be as well for you if we didn’t.”
She looked into his face, dark and serious, watching her with his eyebrows half raised, almost as if he had asked her a question. She understood exactly what he was saying, and hated him for it. “I think you’ve made yourself perfectly dear, Conrad.”
His eyes were piercing as he looked back at her. “Yes, I hope I have,” and he picked up the telephone.
“Is that all?”
“For now.”
She turned to go.
“Oh, one thing,” he said, as she was opening the door, “I’ll pick you up at seven tonight. We’re going to the opera.”
She opened her mouth to speak.
“That’s all. Just be sure you’re ready on time. Candice, get Bill Fownest back in here will you?” he added into the phone.
Jan was waiting for her when she returned to her own office. “Anything you need before I go?”
Ashley shook her head. “Apart from a brilliant idea, no.”
“Can’t help you there, I’m afraid,” Jan laughed as she began to pack away her things. “I take it we were right, it was Mercer Burgess?”
“Yes, Mercer Burgess. And, if I’m not greatly mistaken, my career.”
“Excuse me?” said Jan, stopping what she was doing.
Ashley looked up, surprised to find that she had voiced her thoughts aloud. “Oh, nothing,” she said, “nothing. Did you remember to send the date plan to Jill Robertson?”
“Done. Oh, and I’ve been down to Research and picked up the old Mercer Burgess files from the last time we ran their campaign, and I got them to dig out anything else they had on insurance. And Maggie brought in the feasibility study you asked for. They’re all on your desk.”
“How would I manage without you?” Ashley smiled. “Now off you go, or you’ll be late.”
“Thanks,” said Jan, with evident relief.
“Have a good time,” Ashley added. Jan’s son was opening on Broadway tonight. Only a small pan in the chorus of Cats, but nevertheless, it was Broadway, and it was Cats.
Ashley walked into her own office. It was five thirty now, time enough to get a good three hours in before she went home. She picked up the old Mercer Burgess files and started to flick through them. But Conrad’s words kept ringing in her head, she couldn’t get them out of her mind. She knew she had understood him correctly, but still she didn’t want to believe that her future here in New York was now hanging on whether or not she clinched the Mercer Burgess account. If she failed, then Conrad would send her back to London. But that was preposterous, he couldn’t do it. She gave a dry laugh. Oh yes, he could do it, and what’s more he would. It made her uncomfortable, knowing that he disliked her presence here so intensely, and she resented his holding a Sword of Damocles over her head. But she was getting to know him a little better now, and one thing she had quickly realised was that Conrad Frazier liked to make his own decisions, he did not take kindly to having them made for him. And in this instance it had been her who had made the decision to join his agency in New York, not him. And now he was telling her that either she proved herself, or she was out.
But then he had invited her to the opera. Obviously it wasn’t enough for him to push and bully her around during the day, he was now laying claim to her private life too. Well, he could just damn well go to hell! If he wanted to go to the opera, he would be going alone.
She opened a drawer to take out her notebook. As she took it out a card fell to the floor and she stopped to pick it up.
Her face softened as she read it. It was from Julian, wishing her good luck in her new life. It had been a generous gesture on his part, and she hoped that he would find in the end that he had made the right decision in marrying Blanche. These past two months in New York had already confirmed to her that she had done the right thing in coming.
She put the card on her desk, and stared at it. Julian. Conrad. Julian and Conrad. They were so different. Conrad was ruthless where Julian was considerate, and she was uneasy at having to pit her wits against him, or more correctly in this instance, for him, in order to survive.
He was an irritatingly confusing person, she decided, and an extremely dislikable one too. But during the meeting earlier, she had found herself watching him with interest, and had once or twice been guilty of a lapse of concentration. Despite her feelings towards him, she couldn’t help wondering what he was really like – as a man. She was only too aware of what he was like as an employer, though grudgingly she had to admit that she did respect him. But what did he do when he wasn’t Conrad Frazier, Chairman of Frazier, Nelmes, New York? Without a doubt he must be one of the more eligible men in town, though she had never heard mention of a woman. And he was extremely good-looking, too good-looking in fact, Ashley thought. He knew it of course, and more than once she had seen him play on it where the wives of clients were concerned. But somehow, she sensed, behind his charm he was either bored or irritated by these women, almost as if he saw it as a weakness in them that they could be so easily flattered.
Abruptly she pulled herself together. There was nothing to be gained from pondering over Conrad Frazier. She looked down at the files in front of her and felt a pang of nerves. For this campaign she would be pitting her brains against those of the most successful commercial people in the world. But everybody had to start somewhere, and she was only just beginning. Her ideas would be newer, fresher, and more ambitious. She would start by calling up Arthur Fellowman, the President of Mercer Burgess. She would have to persuade him into increasing his budget to at least twice what it already was. It was only a seed of an idea that she had been working on so far, but already it was beginning to grow, and by the time she left tonight she should have something that would convince him that he would be doing the right thing in considering the astronomical budget she needed for the high profile campaign she wanted to run.
She picked up her pen and began to write, a tiny smile of defiance on her lips. If anyone was going to decide whether or not she stayed in New York, it would be her, and Conrad Frazier and his veiled threats could go to hell.
At six thirty she stopped writing and looked at her watch. She felt a strange stirring sensation creep through her bones. It was giving her pleasure to think of standing up Conard Frazier. He’d be furious, and the very idea of making Conrad Frazier furious gave her an extremely smug feeling of satisfaction. She’d wanted to get her own back on him for so many things, and for so long; and now at last was her opportunity. It would teach him a lesson. Next time he wanted to ask her on a date perhaps he would make an attempt to be a little more civil in the asking. Her only regret was that she would not be there to see the look on his face when he found she wasn’t at home. She shrugged, and then picking up her pen carried on with what she had been doing.
It was ten minutes past seven when the door of her office flew open and Conrad stalked across the room to her desk. His eyes were blazing and his face was dark with rage. Ashley felt herself shrink back.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“I’m getting . . .”
“I don’t give a damn what you’re doing here!” he continued, through clenched teeth. “When I tell you to be ready at seven, I expect you to be there. Just what the hell do you think you’re playing at? This isn’t a game, you know. And I won’t have one of my staff trying to make a fool out of me. Now get to your feet,” and he caught her by the arm, and pulled her out of her chair.
Her notebook and pen fell to the floor, and so did the card. She bent to pick them up, but the card had floated to his feet and before she could reach out for it, he picked it up. It had fallen open, and he couldn’t have failed to recognise the handwriting inside. As he handed it to her she didn’t miss the look of scorn that shot through his eyes. She looked away again.
“Get your things.”
“Now just a minute . . .”
“Shut up,” he snapped, swinging round to face her. “Get whatever you need, you’ll have to go as you are,” and he started to walk towards the door.
“I’m not going anywhere, with you or with anyone else. If you want me to go to the opera with you then you can damn well ask with a civil tongue in your head. But don’t bother, I’ll save you the trouble. The answer is no! I don’t want to go to the opera. And I won’t have anyone pushing me around like this, least of all you!”
He turned back to her, and to her astonishment and fury she could see that though the anger had not disappeared entirely from his eyes, he was laughing.
“Nice show,” he said. “But you flatter yourself. I am taking clients to the opera tonight. Clients of yours, actually, that you should get to know.” He looked at his watch. “I’ve got a taxi waiting downstairs, you’ve got two minutes,” and he stalked out of the room.
Ashley was glad that he didn’t look back. She was smarting with humiliation. Still, there was nothing for it but to pick up her bag and follow him down to the street.
The door of the taxi was open so she slipped in beside him, and kept her face averted. This was the most ridiculous position to be in and she had brought it upon herself. She didn’t even know who the clients were. She wasn’t going to ask. Let him tell her. And her hair was a mess, she wasn’t dressed for the opera, and she wanted to freshen her make-up. Damn him! Damn him!
“Ashley,” he said, interrupting her silent onslaught.
She turned to glare at him.
“Shut up!” he said, quite calmly.
She gasped. “But I haven’t said anything.”
“You don’t have to. Now calm down. If anyone should be angry around here it’s me. And I am, but I’m managing to keep myself under control. Try and do the same.”
Ashley sat looking straight ahead, her mouth opening and closing like a flustered goldfish, unable to think of a thing to say.
Neither of them spoke again until they arrived at the Lincoln Center. Conrad paid the fare, then turned and strode purposefully through the crowds, towards the Metropolitan Opera House. Ashley had to all but run to keep up with him.
They met up with Mr and Mrs Halworth, of Halworth Foods, in the lobby, and Ashley didn’t miss the sweeping look Mrs Halworth gave her inappropriate dress. Ashley tried to smile, and felt even more foolish.
She suffered, rather than enjoyed, Russalka, an opera that had never been a favourite of hers, and she was glad when it was over.
Now what? She didn’t have to wait long to find out. A black limousine which looked as though it had spent many tortuous hours on a rack was waiting for them outside, and they were swept off into the hot, sticky night, to the Twenty-One Club.
Ashley tried hard throughout dinner to make polite conversation with Mrs Halworth, but it was plain to see that Mrs Halworth was only interested in Conrad. And, if Ashley wasn’t greatly mistaken, her interest would need little persuasion to extend beyond the restrictions of a business dinner. Ashley eyed her with distaste.
During the course of the dinner she noticed several women looking in Conrad’s direction, and every now and again he would lift an eyebrow in acknowledgement of their looks. She wondered if he knew them, and felt inexplicably annoyed with him.
She wasn’t too sure when it was that she first began to realise that Mr Halworth assumed she was Conrad’s wife, and when she did she found it so incredible it left her speechless. Surely Conrad must have told him who she was. But the introductions had been so brief that she had to struggle to try and remember exactly what it was Conrad had said. To her annoyance she couldn’t. But why didn’t Conrad put him right? Maybe he hadn’t noticed. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, but his face told her nothing. She looked back to Mr Halworth who winked at her. She felt herself blush, then realised, with horror, that he probably thought that she and Conrad had had some kind of domestic fight before they’d come out this evening. She had to admit that he had good cause to think it, it was exactly how they were behaving.
With relief Ashley saw the coffee being brought. She couldn’t wait to get home now.
Mr Halworth ordered brandy, which Ashley refused and the others accepted, then he sat back in his seat and openly regarded both her and Conrad.
Ashley lowered her eyes under such severe scrutiny, and began to twist the wedding ring she still wore on her third finger. But her head soon snapped up again when Mr Halworth said: “I had heard you were getting married, Conrad. Didn’t know you’d already gone and done it. When was the big day?” He didn’t add that he had thought that Conrad was marrying one of America’s most celebrated models, Candida Rayne.
Ashley turned to Conrad, expecting him to lose no time in putting Mr Halworth straight. But his dark eyes were dancing, and it was quite plain to see that he was going to say nothing. His smile widened a fraction as he saw her eyes narrow. He lifted the brandy to his mouth, and she thought she saw him salute her with it. Right, she thought, he’s asked for it this time.
She turned away from him, aware of Mrs Halworth’s curious eyes upon her. Throwing Mr Halworth a dazzling smile she said: “Just a couple of weeks ago, actually.” She didn’t look at Conrad, but in a conspiratorial manner she leaned towards the older man. “I’ll let you into a little secret,” she whispered, trying to hide a smile as Mrs Halworth leaned forward so that she could hear. “We’re expecting our first baby at Christmas.”
Conrad choked, and sat up abruptly as he spilled brandy over his shirt front. Ashley threw him an indulgent smile, and said, “Oh darling, you really should be more careful,” and she leaned over and began to mop him up. “Get out of that one,” she hissed in his ear.
Mr Halworth was laughing, and calling for the waiter to bring more brandy. “Why didn’t you say something earlier?” he cried. “We could have cracked open the champagne.”
“You’ve been married a couple of weeks, you say,” said Mrs Halworth, who, just as Ashley had intended, had taken no time at all in working out the dates. “How very, nice.”
Ashley took Conrad’s arm. “Oh, it is, isn’t it, Connie darling?” and she had the immense satisfaction of feeling him tense.
“Tell me,” said Mrs Halworth to Ashley, “will you be giving up your job? When the baby arrives.”
“Oh I’m sure I will. In fact, Connie insists, don’t you, darling?”
“How sweet!” said Mrs Halworth. She turned to her husband. “Don’t you think it’s sweet?”
“Sure do,” he said, beaming all over his face.
“Excuse me,” said Mrs Halworth. “I think I need the ladies’ room.”
Conrad and Mr Halworth both got to their feet as Mrs Halworth stood up.
Ashley was steeling herself, waiting for some sort of reaction from Conrad. She allowed herself a quick look in his direction, but his face was inscrutable as he reached for his brandy. “I’ll have my secretary call yours tomorrow,” he said to Mr Halworth, “I’d like to get a meeting in before the end of the month. When do you go away?”
Mr Halworth chuckled at the abruptness of the change of subject and turned away from Ashley. “Mid-October. Sure, that’ll be fine. By the end of the month. Have you contacted anyone else yet?”
“Not yet, but I will. We’ve got a match at the weekend.”
“Yeah, sorry I can’t make it. You playing?”
“Yes.”
It was some time before Ashley realised that they were discussing polo.
Mrs Halworth came back, and Conrad said that it was about time they were leaving. He handed Ashley her bag, and avoided her eyes. She was beginning to feel a little nervous.
When they were outside, Mr Halworth tried to insist that they ride home in the limousine, but Conrad was firm. “We don’t have far to go,” and added without a glance in Ashley’s direction, “Ashley enjoys the night air.”
They waved the Halworths off, and when the limousine had turned the comer, Conrad hailed a taxi.
He waited for it to draw alongside, then pulling open the door he turned to let her in. But she was gone. He looked around, and saw her marching off down the street.
“Wait here,” he told the driver, and leaving the door open, he went after her.
“Let go of me,” she said, as he caught her by the arm.
“Don’t be childish,” he snapped. “And in case you hadn’t noticed, you’re walking in the wrong direction.”
She turned to face him, her eyes flashing. “I fail to see what it has to do” with you which direction I walk in. Now let me go.”
“Get into the taxi,” he growled. “I want to speak to you.”
“I won’t! I’ll call my own taxi.”
His voice was dangerously low. “Get into the taxi, or I’ll pick you up and put you in it.”
“Stop behaving like a second-rate movie star,” she seethed. “If I . . .”
Before she could say another word, he had lifted her from the ground and was marching back to the taxi. He dumped her inside and climbed in beside her. The driver chuckled, and drove off.
“Madison and Seventy-fifth, the Montclair,” said Conrad, then sat back in his seat and looked out of the window.
“That’s where I live,” said Ashley.
“You want to go home, don’t you?” he barked.
They said no more until they reached her apartment block. He got out of the taxi and walked round to open the door for her. She could see that he was still furious.
“I think you got the meaning of what I was saying in my office earlier,” he said, as she started to get out, “so maybe you’d better wake up to the fact that you’re in the real world now. And while you’re about it, you can start thinking of an explanation for your inexcusable manners towards the Halworths this evening.” He got back into the taxi. “I will see you in my office tomorrow afternoon, by which time I will expect you to have rung Halworth and apologised for the lies you told this evening. Good night!”
She had no opportunity to reply, he had pulled the door closed. The taxi drove off, and she stood in the street, watching it, until it had disappeared.
Suddenly she began to cry with rage. Of all the stupid, idiotic and senseless things to have done. Instead of getting her own back, she had only succeeded in making a complete fool of herself, and throwing her position into even greater jeopardy than it already was.
She turned to her door, and for the first time since she had been in New York, she felt truly homesick.
The following morning Ashley called Mr Halworth at his office on Lexington and made her apologies. She had been up most of the night thinking about what she could say. In the end she had decided that there was nothing for it but to come clean and own up to her petty attempt at revenge.
Mr Halworth laughed loudly when she finished her explanation, and told her that he guessed Conrad had had it coming to him, and that he was only sorry for her sake, that her boss had had the last word.
By the time their conversation was at an end, Ashley and Mr Halworth were firm friends, and he invited her to join him for lunch the following week. That would certainly be one in the eye for Conrad. But Mr Halworth’s parting words were disconcerting.
“Just one thing before you go,” he chuckled, “if you two really do decide to tie the knot, don’t forget to invite me to the wedding,” and he hung up before she had time to answer.
She was sorely tempted to ring him back and put him straight, but she didn’t.
The rest of the day was taken up with planning meetings for the Mercer Burgess campaign. The rest of her team entered wholeheartedly into her scheme, though there were one or two who were a little hesitant about the size of it. She didn’t worry too much about that; once she had persuaded the President of Mercer Burgess that she was right, she knew she would have everyone behind her. Arthur Fellowman agreed to see her later that afternoon, so she had to get to work on the formula she wanted to propose. She made no attempt to see Conrad and he didn’t send for her. She saw him as he was leaving the building at about three o’clock, but thankfully he didn’t see her.
There was no doubt that Arthur Fellowman was impressed by her proposals. He called in his marketing people and the meeting went on much longer than she had anticipated, breaking up at six thirty with an agreement to call Ashley the following morning. Meanwhile, Arthur told her to go ahead with the idea, in theory, and see what else she could come up with.
Her team were already doing that. It had shaken her confidence a little when Arthur told her as she was leaving that they had already seen someone from another agency that morning, though he wouldn’t name names. And that what they were proposing was also extremely attractive, and not half so costly.
“I just want to make you aware of it,” he said as they walked together to the elevator, “because a budget the size you are asking for, not to mention what you’re asking us to give over and above that, is not going to be easy to get through the board.”
She had thanked him for being honest with her.
“Our board is no different to any other,” he said. “Never want to part with any money, but when they do, the less the better. But for what it’s worth, I think your idea could be a winner, provided the casting is right. Though, sadly for you, so could the other one. And no doubt there will be many more coming my way in the next few days. But anyway, best of luck, eh?”
She fought against being disheartened as she went back to Frazier, Nelmes. Her idea would be the best, it had to be. But the best always costs more, and Mercer Burgess would just have to be persuaded round to seeing it that way.
By seven thirty there was very little more she could do at the office. She had agreed to go to the cinema with Candice, and she welcomed the distraction. She still needed to see the producer, but Gemma was out on a recce already, searching the downtown areas for possible locations. Jan told her that Gemma would be back around ten, so with the art directors and copy writers assuring her that they were quite capable of making their own coffee and giving one another moral support she left with Candice, saying she would be back after the film.
“You know, one of these days,” Candice said, as they paid for their tickets for Mona Lisa, “I’m going to get over to London.”
“Yes, you must, you’ll love it,” said Ashley. “But let me know when you do, I’ve some very good friends there who will be only too glad to take care of you, show you around.”
“You’re on.” Candice looked up at the clock on the wall. “Why don’t we have a drink before we go in, we’re early yet.”
Ashley ordered two glasses of wine from the bar, and they sat down at a corner table.
“What time are your folks arriving tomorrow?”
“Oh God, I’d almost forgotten,” said Ashley. “What a time to arrive.”
Candice chuckled in sympathy. “Are they bringing your little boy with them?”
“Are you kidding?” said Ashley. “Alex wouldn’t miss an adventure to New York!”
Candice laughed. “I wish you could see your face right now,” she said, a little wistfully.
“Why?”
“Because you have the look of a woman in love.”
“I seem to remember someone else saying that to me once,” said Ashley, “about Alex. I can’t wait to see him. He’ll be eight next week, while he’s here, so I’ve got to think of something special for him to do.”
“And do I get to meet him at all?”
“Of course. He’s determined to come into the office one day, but I’d better make it a day when Conrad’s not about. Don’t think he’d approve, somehow. But you must come to dinner one night as well, and meet my parents.”
“Thanks,” said Candice, and she picked up her wine. “How’s the research coming along for Mercer Burgess?”
“Not so bad. It won’t be easy, but I think we’re in with a chance.”
“Anything for Conrad yet?”
“No.”
“That sounded rather final.”
“I don’t think I’ve got anything he’d be particularly interested in yet.”
Candice laughed to herself, and watched Ashley’s face. “You sure as hell don’t like him much, do you?”
“No.”
“But why?”
“If you’ve got an hour, I’ll tell you,” said Ashley.
“Pity really.”
“What’s a pity?”
“That you don’t like him.”
“Well, the feeling’s mutual, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
Candice merely smiled at that.
“Are you, you know, seeing him?” said Ashley, and immediately blushed. She was becoming quite American with her direct questions, but they still embarrassed her.
“Me! Good God, no.”
“But I thought . . .”
“You thought that I was crazy about him?”
“Well, yes.”
“I was, once. A long time ago. But he’s never really been interested in me. Now, well, I just love him for being him.”
Ashley shook her head. “It’s beyond me how anyone can love him, just for being him.”
Candice chuckled. “He’s not so bad, you know.”
“That’s a matter of opinion,” Ashley retorted, and picked up her wine. “I saw him leaving early this afternoon.”
“Went to pick up his sister and her kids to bring them to town for the week. Her husband’s gone away and she fancied doing a bit of shopping.”
“Oh?”
They both looked up as a crowd of teenagers came into the bar, laughing and falling over one another.
“Oh no,” Candice groaned. “I hope they’re not going to be sitting anywhere near us.”
“Does Conrad have a girlfriend?”
Candice looked at her, and grinned. “You’re mighty interested in Conrad Frazier, for someone who can’t stand the sight of him.”
“Not really. I only wondered.”
Candice pondered the question for a minute or two. “Does Conrad have a girlfriend?” she repeated, finally, and looked at Ashley again.
“You’re making it all sound very mysterious,” said Ashley, beginning to regret asking.
“Well, it is mysterious. In a way.”
“Well, surely either he does or he doesn’t.”
“Let’s just say, he has someone in mind.”
“Anyone I know?”
Candice nodded, but didn’t enlarge.
“Well?” Ashley persisted, “Are you going to tell me?” She didn’t know what she was getting so agitated about. What possible difference did it make to her if Conrad had someone in mind or not? But she had to admit, she was intrigued to find out the identity of the victim.
“You mean you really don’t know?”
“Of course not. I wouldn’t be asking if I did.”
“He’s never told you?”
“Me! I’d be the last person he’d confide something like that in.”
Candice laughed. “I wouldn’t be too sure.”
Ashley didn’t feel particularly comfortable with Candice’s rather odd reply, nor with the way she kept laughing. “Look,” she said, “I’m sorry I asked, and as I’m not really all that interested, shall we change the subject?”
“If you like.”
Ashley picked up her glass again and, surprising herself, accepted the cigarette Candice offered her. She only ever smoked when she was worried about something, or nervous.
“Where does he live?” she asked, puffing on the cigarette in a very amateurish way.
Candice gave a shout of laughter. “Ashley! You sure are the limit. He lives about three blocks from you, if you must know. And, in case you didn’t already know, it was him who found your apartment.”
“Conrad? But Jan never said.”
“I think she was probably told not to. Let’s face it, if you’d known, you might have refused.”
“I wouldn’t,” said Ashley, her face a picture of indignation. “But why would he do that?”
Candice shook her head. “Ashley, Conrad Frazier is in love with you. Don’t tell me you didn’t know.”
Ashley dropped her cigarette into her lap. She jumped up and knocked over the wine.
“You’re mad!” she said, when order was finally restored.
Candice was obviously enjoying herself immensely. “You mean you really didn’t know?”
“Of course I didn’t,” said Ashley. “It’s not true.”
“Well, I won’t argue with you. But take it from me, he’s absolutely crazy about you. No doubt he’ll get around to telling you himself one of these days. I must say, though, it’s not like Conrad to wait this long.”
“I don’t want to talk about him any more,” said Ashley. “It’s absurd. The whole thing is utter nonsense. I don’t mean to be rude, Candice, but you’ve either got it all terribly wrong, or you’ve taken leave of your senses.”
Candice shrugged. “Have it your way. But remember, I know Conrad, and you’ll see if I’m not right.” She looked up at the clock. “Come on, time we were going in.”
Ashley followed her down the steps to the auditorium, her mind in complete turmoil. How was she ever going to concentrate on the film now?
In fact, it was less difficult than she imagined. It was so good to see her beloved London up there on the screen, even if Mona Lisa did major on the sleazier side. But she soon became immersed in the story, and if Conrad Frazier crept into her thoughts at all during those couple of hours, she hurriedly pushed him away again. The whole thing was quite unthinkable.
When they left, Candice suggested that they grab a bite to eat somewhere. Ashley didn’t really feel hungry, but she agreed to go, to keep Candice company. They didn’t stay long over their food, Ashley wanted to get back to the office. And she had plenty to do at home, before her parents arrived tomorrow.
There wasn’t much sleep for her that night. Every time she closed her eyes she could see the face of Conrad Frazier looking down at her, and she couldn’t stop her ears ringing with the words, first of Mr Halworth, then of Candice.