The Arrogance Of Love

‘David, let's get this straight now, shall we? I don't want to live with your mother, however convenient it may be.'

David sighed. ‘I know, Sue, but –'

‘But nothing, David.’ Susan ran a hand over her hair, and David suddenly pulled her to him.

‘Oh, Sue,’ he whispered, ‘I only want to live with you. I don't care where it is!'

Susan allowed him to kiss her, without responding herself. She felt emotionally exhausted at the moment. Then she pressed herself against him, as though willing herself to respond, and he groaned, ‘Oh, lord, I don't know how I'll wait until October.'

‘What would your mother think?’ she taunted him, hating herself for doing so.

‘I don't damn well care,’ he muttered, and kissed her again.

CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_33bf20b9-8e1d-5eea-9268-9cededd22671)

THE flat which Susan shared was situated in a comparatively new block in a quiet cul-de-sac. There was a bedroom, a living-room and a kitchen, with a bathroom along the passage which was shared with two other couples.

Delia Fulton and Susan had both been brought up in the orphanage and in consequence loved the flat which was the first real home they had had. They had both come to London together to get jobs, Susan to work in a typing pool and take a commercial course during her evenings, and Delia to work in a large store from where she too had taken a course, this time in window-dressing, and she now worked for a large department store in Oxford Street.

It had been a struggle to begin with. The rent of the flat had seemed exorbitant, but now they both earned enough money to afford the flat and a few luxuries besides.

The girls were good friends and did not interfere in each other's lives. The orphanage had taught them to respect privacy, for there there had been little.

The next morning Susan woke to find Delia shaking her, and saying :

‘Wake up, Susan. I've brought you a cuppa.'

Delia was a brunette. She wore her hair very long and straight and was invariably dressed in pants and an overblouse or sweater.

‘What's the time?’ asked Susan, struggling up in bed to take the cup of tea Delia held out to her.

‘Eight o'clock,’ replied Delia, now relieved of the tea-cup and lighting a cigarette.

Susan blinked. This was indeed a red-letter day. Delia was never up first in the mornings. She was always the one who had practically to push her friend out of bed.

‘Couldn't you sleep?’ she asked, an amused twinkle in her eye. ‘Or is there some other reason for your early rising?'

Delia stretched and grinned. ‘Well, honey, Alan is taking me down to meet his parents for the weekend. He's calling for me at nine o'clock and I can hardly contain myself.'

‘I see. How wonderful!’ Susan was pleased. Alan Huntley was the nephew of the store-manager where Delia worked. His parents were Sir John and Lady Olivia Huntley and they lived in a massive house near Bristol. Although Delia had been working at the store for over eight years, it was only recently that Alan had started taking an interest in her and as she had admired him from a distance for a long time, she was overjoyed. And now he was taking her down to meet his parents and to Susan it sounded very serious indeed in the nicest possible way.

‘It is, isn't it?’ exclaimed Delia, hugging herself. ‘Just imagine! Meeting his parents!'

‘Yes, you'll soon be getting married yourself,’ said Susan. ‘I envy you.'

‘Why? You have David.'

‘Oh, I know, but I also have David's mother to contend with, and she's a whole mass of problems in herself.’ She sighed.

‘You do sound gloomy this morning,’ said Delia sympathetically. ‘You were asleep when I got home last night. Has something awful happened?'

‘Awful! Oh, no, not really.’ In truth Susan couldn't understand her depressed mood herself. It all seemed to stem from that meeting with Dominic Halstad. It was all most annoying, and most unsettling.

‘Then what's wrong? You don't sound very happy.’ Delia was genuinely concerned.

Susan smiled. ‘Nothing, honestly. I just feel as though it's going to be one of those days.'

She slid out of bed and stretched, before crossing to the wash basin to sluice her face with icy cold water.

Drying her face on the towel, she looked speculatively at Delia.

‘Delia,’ she said slowly, ‘have you heard of Dominic Halstad?'

Delia frowned. ‘I've heard of him, of course. He's something to do with newspapers, isn't he?'

‘Yes. He's the head of one of these big syndicates.'

Delia looked exasperated. ‘Come on, then! You didn't ask me that for no reason, just out of the blue. Do you know him?’ She looked slightly incredulous.

Susan laughed. ‘Not exactly. But I did meet him yesterday at the cocktail party at Amanda's. He's a friend of hers, and very attractive.'

‘Is he indeed?’ Delia made a moue with her lips. ‘You do move in exalted circles, don't you?'

‘Amanda does, at least. She apparently knows him very well. They treated each other like long-lost souls.'

‘Hmn! He sounds interesting. Is he married?'

‘Yes, they always are,’ Susan chuckled. ‘Why? Has Alan begun to pall already?'

‘Of course not. But I can see he made quite an impression on you. Is that the cause of the depression? Did David seem meek in comparison?'

‘No, not at all.’ Susan felt cross. She ought not to be discussing a complete stranger, and a friend of Amanda's, in this manner. After all, the chances were that she would never see him again. Besides, she somehow felt disloyal to David just talking about Dominic Halstad. But she would not admit, even to herself, the reason why she felt this way.

Shooing Delia out of the bedroom she dressed in a dark-blue jersey shift and emerged to find that Delia had prepared her a slice of toast and a cup of creamy coffee, which were delicious.

Wishing her friend good luck during the weekend, she donned her sheepskin coat, and hastily left the flat. She ran down the flight of stairs and came out into the fresh morning air.

It was one of those slightly frosty mornings, when a faint haze hid the sun and promised a warm and sunny day. Susan breathed deeply and felt her depression leaving her. Who could feel depressed when everything looked so new and fresh and the young shoots were greening on the trees in the parks?

A bus set her down near Amanda's apartment and she opened the door of the lounge as the near-by church clock struck nine.

Amanda was sitting at her desk, studying her correspondence, and smiled as Susan came in.

‘Good morning, Susan,’ she said briskly. ‘You're remarkably punctual.'

Susan chuckled. ‘I'm not sure whether I should take that as a compliment or not,’ she remarked, taking off her coat and hanging it in the minute entrance hall.

‘Sorry, dear,’ said Amanda. ‘Anyway, there's not a lot for us to do today.’ She rose to her feet and, crossing to the kitchen door, called, ‘Coffee for two, Sarah, please.'