CHAPTER TWO

      HER first interview with Silas Livingstone had been on Tuesday. By Thursday of that same week Colly’s head was beginning to spin from the effort of trying to pinpoint exactly what kind of job was in the offing that would be better discussed in ‘informal detail’ over dinner.

      She still inwardly cringed whenever she thought of how, without a pennyworth of secretarial experience, she had applied for that senior secretarial job. It just went to show, she realised, how desperate she was for a job that paid well enough to afford her somewhere to live.

      And that she would have to find that somewhere to live, and quickly, had been endorsed for her again last night, when Nanette had entertained a few of her rowdy friends. It was her right, of course, but the gales of laughter, male and female, that had come from the drawing room had impinged on Colly’s sensitivities. Her father had barely been dead a month.

      His widow had obviously decided to be the merry sort. If that was her way of grieving, so be it, but Colly had seen little sign of genuine grief. And all she wanted to do now, she mused, as she began to clear up the debris from the previous night’s entertainment, was find a place of her own and get started on being solely independent. She knew then that whatever this job was, that was being newly created by Silas Livingstone, she would take it.

      While it might not pay as well as that multilingual secretary’s job, Silas Livingstone was well aware of her circumstances, so surely he would not be considering her for this new vacancy unless the salary that went with it was an adequate living wage.

      By early Friday evening Colly had reasoned that, because her only skills were in keeping a well-run house, some small knowledge of art and an ability with languages, this newly created vacancy must involve the use of her languages in some way—which, plainly, was not secretarial. But, again, why dinner? It was almost as though the job was not in his office at all! As if it were nothing to do with office life—and that was why he was interviewing her in ‘informal detail’ outside of the office.

      She was getting fanciful. Colly went upstairs to shower and get dressed, ready for Silas Livingstone to call.

      Because this was to all intents and purposes a business dinner, Colly opted to wear a black straight ankle-length skirt of fine wool and a heavy silk white shirt-blouse. She joined the two with a wide suede belt that emphasised her tiny waist. She brushed her long brown hair with its hint of red back from her face in an elegant knot, and when she took a slightly apprehensive glance in the full-length mirror she was rather pleased with her general appearance. It was only then that she accepted that, with no other likely-looking job being advertised in the paper this week, she was pinning a lot of hope on this interview. She did so hope she would not come home disappointed. It was just that afternoon that Nanette had bluntly asked when she was leaving.

      It was her luck that when, at ten minutes to eight, with a black wool cloak over her arm, she went downstairs to wait, she should meet Nanette in the hall. ‘Where are you off to?’ Nanette asked nastily, her eyes looking her over.

      ‘I’m going out to dinner.’

      ‘What about my dinner?’ Nanette asked shrewishly.

      Only just did Colly refrain from telling her that she had been her father’s housekeeper, not hers. ‘I thought you might be going out yourself,’ she replied quietly; the atmosphere in the house was hostile enough without her adding to it.

      ‘A—friend will be joining me later,’ Nanette snapped. And, an anticipatory gleam coming to her eyes, ‘Don’t disturb us when you come in.’

      Colly went into the breakfast room to wait. It was a dark January night and she would see the car’s headlights as they swept up the drive. Now, don’t hope for too much. She attempted to calm herself down. There was every chance she might not yet be offered this job which could mean independence and a new way of life.

      A minute or so later car headlights lit up the drive. Colly donned her cloak and, hoping it was Silas Livingstone and not Nanette’s ‘friend’, left the breakfast room and went out to meet him.

      It was her hopefully prospective employer. He left the driver’s seat and came to open up the passenger door. ‘Hello, Colly,’ he greeted her amicably.

      Well, that sounded friendly enough. She preferred Colly to Columbine. ‘Hello,’ she murmured. In no time she was seated beside him and they were motoring back down the drive. ‘You found the house all right?’ she asked politely. It was a nice house, in a very well-to-do neighbourhood.

      ‘Not a problem,’ he returned pleasantly, and matched her for polite conversation as he drove them to the eating establishment he had chosen, which happened to be a hotel.

      He waited in the foyer while she checked her cloak. After taking a deep breath, her insides churning, she went out to join him. She gave him a smile. He smiled back, his eyes taking in her smart appearance. She had been out on dates before—but never with someone like him.

      But this was not a date, she reminded herself as he escorted her to a lounge area. ‘You’re over your disappointment of last Tuesday, I hope?’ he enquired as he waited for her to be seated.

      ‘I blush whenever I think of my nerve in even applying,’ she answered as he took a seat facing her.

      He seemed to approve of her honesty. But, when she thought that he would now begin to interview her for this other job, the newly arisen job, to her surprise did not, but merely commented, ‘You’re having a rather desperate time of it at the moment,’ and asked, ‘What would you like to drink?’

      He went on to be a most courteous and pleasant companion.

      ‘Mr Livingstone—’ she began at one point.

      Only to lose her thread completely when, ‘Silas,’ he invited—and kept up a polite flow of conversation as they transferred to the dining room.

      He asked her opinion on sundry matters as they ate their way through the first course, and in fact was everything she could wish for in a platonic dinner partner. So much so that they were midway through their main course before she recalled that they were not here as friends but as prospective employer and employee.

      ‘This job,’ she inserted during a break in the conversation, realising only then how thoroughly at ease with him she felt. If that had been his aim he could not have done better.

      ‘We’ll get to that in time,’ he commented. ‘Is the steak to your liking?’

      They were back in the lounge drinking coffee before Colly found another chance to introduce the subject of work without appearing to be blunt.

      ‘I’ve very much enjoyed this evening,’ she began politely, ‘but…’

      ‘But now, naturally, you’d like to know more about the vacancy.’ He favoured her with a pleasant look, and explained, rather intriguingly, she felt, ‘I wanted