AllFreeNovel
Share Us
As Liza was about to leave that evening, one of her top models arrived, wearing a very large diamond on her left hand, and all the other girls crowded round her to admire her ring, kiss her, offer their congratulations. Liza opened some champagne from the office fridge.
'I'm afraid I shall be leaving,' Karen told Liza a little while later. 'We're going ba
ck to Brazil to his family larm. He doesn't like it here.'
Under her smile Liza was faintly depressed—Karen was at her earning peak and Liza would be very sorry to lose her, but there was more to it than that. She couldn't help envying Karen; she looked so happy and so carefree, so much in love.
They all wished Karen good luck and then she dashed off to celebrate with her family. Liza was about to put the remaining unopened bottle of champagne back into the I ridge when she changed her mind and took it home with her, thinking that Bruno might call in before he left and (hey could toast his new life in America.
The flat seemed very empty, very chilly. She sat curled up on the sofa, her knees bent up and her chin on them, brooding over the strange sadness which seemed to be hovering around her. She couldn't think why she felt so lonely, so blank, and she wished she would stop thinking about Keir Gifford. He kept answering into her head; he was haunting her!
She hadn't eaten and tried to distract herself by considering whether or not to go into the kitchen to find food, but while she was thinking about that her eye fell on the bottle of champagne which she had put down on the table when she arrived.
That was what she needed—something to cheer herself up! She might forget her fury with Keir Gifford and her sudden realisation of how lonely her empty flat could be—she had never felt lonely there before. It was stupid to let the news of Karen's engagement get to her like that! It was hardly the first time one of her girls had got married; in fact, it often happened, since in modelling they rapidly picked up admirers. Marriage did not necessarily follow, but four of her girls had got married since she started the agency, and she couldn't recall feeling this depressed before.
What the hell is the matter with me? she asked herself, uncoiling to pick up the bottle of champagne and carry it to the kitchen to open it. I've got everything I've ever wanted: a fascinating career, a lovely home, a boat, a car. She found a champagne glass, slowly eased the cork out of the bottle in the manner she had noticed waiters using, and poured a bubbly glass. It was warm, but she didn't care.
She raised the glass angrily to the ceiling. 'To hell with Keir Gifford,' she told her empty flat. Her voice had a hollow ring, though; she drained the glass hurriedly to change her mood as soon as possible.
She couldn't remember ever getting drunk, but tonight could be the exception, she thought, deciding to have a warm shower before bed. She would take her champagne with her.
She had begun to feel happier by the time she had finished showering; she sang as she put on a loose white silk nightie and neglige. They were both in Regency style; high-waisted and full skirted. Liza drifted into her bedroom, singing and dancing, holding her skirts with one hand and the champagne in the other. She had the radio playing; why did they always play sad love songs? It was all so phoney; love was just a trap and if you got caught in it you left a bit of yourself behind if you escaped. Why did people write songs about it that made it sound like heaven, when everyone knew it was hell and damnation?
She sat on her bed because her head was a little dizzy and felt she should stop dancing—but the room went on revolving without her. She focused on it, seeing double.
'Stop it!' she said loudly and the room stopped going round.
'This is all Keir Gifford's fault,' Liza brooded. If she ever saw him again she'd tell him what she thought of him, but now that he'd successfully detached Bruno from her dangerous company he would vanish back into his own glittering, exclusive world, she wouldn't set eyes on him again.
Her green eyes fixed on nothing, moodily contemplating that thought. She had been perfectly happy until he had crashed into her life. What had he done to her?
i hate Keir Gifford,' she almost shouted at the furniture elegantly arranged around her. 'If I knew his phone number I'd ring him and tell him exactly what I think of him!'
That was when the phone rang. She jumped so violently that she almost fell off the bed. Groping for the phone, she whispered, 'Hello?' convinced that it would be Keir, but it wasn't. It was Bruno and he sounded nervous.
'Liza, are you OK?' he asked.
'I'm, fine, fine, fine,' Liza chorused happily, or that was how she wanted to sound—happy! She didn't want
Bruno to know she was in a state of wild misery; it had nothing to do with him, although he had been the innocent cause of it in the beginning.
'You don't sound it,' Bruno said slowly.
'Of course I do,' Liza insisted and drank some more champagne.
Bruno seemed to hear that. 'What are you doing?' he asked and then, more sharply, 'Drinking? Liza, you aren't drinking alone, are you?' He sounded shocked, incredulous, and she thought that was very funny, the idea of shocking Bruno. She began to giggle.
'You should try it, it certainly chases the blues away.'
i'm coming over to see you,' Bruno announced and Liza said furiously.
'No!'
'Liza, listen . . .'
'Your uncle Mr G. K. Gifford, the eminent business person and louse, does not want you to see me ever again, so kindly toe the line or you'll be chucked out of the family, and I wouldn't want you to lose your inheritance over me.' She was pleased with the dignified way in which she said it; it was rather a pity that she hiccupped at the very end. It was even more of a pity that she then could not stop hiccupping. In fact, she hiccupped all the way through Bruno's reply.
'Liza, I'm coming over—we haven't really had a chance to say goodbye.'
