Seen By Candlelight. Anne Mather
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did her housework for her, but she looked after herself otherwise, making her own meals and taking her washing to the nearby launderette. Her salary was quite adequate to cover these luxuries and Lewis had often suggested that she employ a full-time housekeeper. But Karen preferred her freedom, and as her knowledge of housekeepers was limited to Liza, who ran her mother’s life as well as her home, she felt sure she was doing the right thing.
That afternoon, Karen sat staring at her drawing-board finding herself singularly devoid of any ideas. Even her casual paintings held no charm. Outside the apartment a watery sun was shining and it had turned into quite a springlike day. On sudden impulse she left her studio, pulled on her sheepskin coat and left the apartment.
Outside, the air was fresh and invigorating, and she crossed the road into the small park nearby and watched the children playing. It was a favourite spot for nannies with prams and tiny toddlers just learning to run and play with their slightly older brothers and sisters. The sight of the happy, laughing faces turned the knife in Karen’s stomach. If she had had the baby Paul had wanted, it would have been three or four years old now. Who knows, she thought dully, she might have had two or even three by this time.
She walked aimlessly across the stretch of grass, wishing the day would end and tomorrow arrive that much sooner. Until she had actually spoken to Paul her concentration was quite non-existent, and if she tried to work in such a manner, it would be a complete waste of time and energy and materials.
She stayed out for a couple of hours and then returned to the flat. She made herself a scratch meal of beans on toast in lieu of dinner, and then switched on the television. It was rarely used, but this evening she enjoyed losing herself in the exciting western and variety show which she watched.
When the television closed down for the night, Karen smoked a last cigarette before going to bed. She thought about Sandra and Simon. Sandra was just foolish enough to get herself into serious trouble. She was completely irresponsible and quite wild, due to her mother’s fawnlike adoration all these years. No matter what scrapes she had got into as a child, her mother had always helped her out of them, glossing over the facts to Karen, and consequently now Sandra did not know the meaning of the word sensibility. During Karen’s years as Paul’s wife, she had been more manageable, owing to Paul’s control over her, but after their divorce she had become worse than before.
As for Simon, he ought to have more sense. He and Julia had been rare visitors at Trevayne when Karen was married to Paul. Simon had made it plain from the outset that he favoured his brother’s young wife, and Paul had made it equally plain that if Simon came near Karen he would get his head in his hands.
Julia, Simon’s wife, had been the daughter of an impoverished earl when she met Simon, and had aroused herself from her rather languid manner long enough to get Simon to marry her. Their parents had approved and Julia, although well aware of Simon’s discrepancies, saw in him a meal ticket for life. She enjoyed the company of men, and after their marriage they each went their separate ways to a great extent. They lived in the same house, entertained jointly, but each had their own friends. It was a nauseating set-up, and Paul had avoided them quite openly.
Thinking now of Sandra, throwing herself away on a man like Simon Frazer, disgusted and appalled Karen, and she knew she would be glad if Paul would do something. Only he had the power to dictate to Simon. Paul held the family finances.
Of course, Simon probably gloated over the liaison secretly. He was getting back at Karen and Paul to some measure for having slighted him before. He was an amusing character for all his faults, and no doubt Sandra found him quite fascinating after the rather callow youths she usually associated with.
It was midnight by the time Karen crawled into bed, but sleep did not come easily. Her thoughts were too full of Paul, her mind too active to relax. She recalled how attractive he was, dark-skinned, and dark-haired and dark-eyed. Although she herself was a tall girl, all of five feet seven inches, he absolutely dwarfed her, making her intensely conscious of his overwhelming masculinity. His hair was short and cut close to his head and was always crisp and vital to the touch. His dark eyes, sometimes cynical or amused, could soften miraculously with love, and his mouth had done crazy things to her body. A man of the world before their marriage, he had known many women, but Karen satisfied him mentally as well as physically, and under his tuition she had learned all the delights and desires of her own body.
Remembering all these things disturbed her emotionally, and she moved restlessly in the bed, rolling on to her stomach to stop its churning.
She remembered the nights of the long hot summer that had followed their marriage, when, too hot to sleep, they had gone down to the pool and swum in the moonlight. They had been utterly alone, the rest of the household asleep, and they had made love, their bodies dripping with the cool delicious water.
Groaning, Karen slid wearily out of bed and padded into the bathroom. Filling a tumbler full of water, she extracted a sleeping tablet from the bottle in the cabinet and swallowed it with some of the water. She peered at her weary face in the mirror of the cabinet and frowned. Was she to look like a hag when he saw her tomorrow? Would he be glad he was no longer married to such a tired-looking creature?
She returned slowly to her bed and slid back between the sheets. Moodily, she mused that at least during her marriage to Paul she had never had to resort to sleeping tablets, at least not while they were living together. On the contrary, she had slept soundly and dreamlessly as a child in his arms, conscious of the security of those arms always.
Achingly she stared into space until the cotton wool world of the drug descended upon her and she slept.
She awoke with an aching head next morning, hearing the steady buzz of the vacuum cleaner from the lounge. She slid out of bed and pulled on a blue quilted housecoat before opening the door leading to the lounge.
Mrs. Coates, the daily, was just finishing and she smiled cheerfully at Karen. She was a small, plump woman of about fifty, with a husband and six children at home. She often regaled Karen with stories of “our Bert” or “our Billy”, and Karen found her a refreshing personality.
“I’ve made your coffee,” she said now, looking critically at Karen. She nodded towards the kitchen. “You look as though you could do with some.”
“Thank you,” replied Karen dryly, but padded willingly into the kitchen.
The percolater was bubbling merrily and she poured herself a cup of black coffee and went back into the lounge for her cigarettes.
“Are you all right, dearie?” asked Mrs. Coates, looking worriedly at her.
“Of course. Thank you, Mrs. Coates. I slept rather badly, that’s all. I’ll be all right when I’ve had this.” She nodded to the coffee.
“Right.” Mrs. Coates pulled on her mackintosh. “I’ll be off, then. See you in the morning.”
“Yes, all right, Mrs. Coates,” said Karen, managing a smile, and the woman left.
After she had closed the door, Karen stood down her coffee and walking over to the switch she turned down the temperature of the central heating. Mrs. Coates always kept the place like a greenhouse, and this morning Karen felt as though she needed air, and lots of it.
Her watch told her it was only nine-thirty, so she collected the daily papers, which Mrs. Coates always brought for her, from the kitchen and settled herself on the couch in the lounge.
She knew that Paul would not reach the office until ten o’clock at the earliest, so she read for an hour before tackling the telephone. The newspapers were full of the world crises, but for all the impression they made on her she might just as well not have bothered reading them. Her mind buzzed with the telephone call ahead of her and eventually she laid them aside and merely waited.
Today when the switchboard operator at the Frazer building answered her, Karen again asked for Mr. Frazer and was immediately put through to Paul’s office suite.
His private secretary answered her and asked in her cool, modulated voice who was calling and what it was about.
“Mr.