As though he sensed the direction of her thoughts, Philippe started to supply the answers to her questions, but before he could say more than a couple of words her stepfather and Monsieur Sancerre stood up, and Monsieur Sancerre called Philippe over to join their discussion.
‘These men!’ Madame Sancerre said with a smile when Philippe had gone. ‘But there can be no doubt, petite, that Philippe prefers your company to that of his father and the Sheikh.’
When Danielle demurred Madame chided her. ‘Oh, come, chérie,’ she protested, ‘you are a very attractive young girl. It cannot have escaped your notice that Philippe finds you attractive?’
THESE words were repeated, although in a somewhat different vein, the following day when Danielle’s stepfather was discussing the events of the previous evening.
‘Philippe is pleasant enough,’ Danielle agreed sedately, ‘but I suspect that he finds all girls who are reasonably pretty, “attractive”.’ She made a slight moue and her stepfather laughed, ruffling her hair.
‘And as a definitely more than “reasonably pretty” girl, you disdain his attentions, is that it?’
He was in a very expansive mood and it struck Danielle that he was relieved that she did not find Philippe attractive. Why? she wondered, and then smiled. Of course, Hassan made no secret of the fact that he liked having her at home and had no doubt feared that she might have taken Philippe’s attentions too seriously.
‘He is an entertaining companion, nothing more,’ she assured him, darting him a glance and wondering if now was the time to mention something which had begun to trouble her lately. She had no wish to hurt her stepfather’s feelings, but it was time that he and her mother realised that she was old enough to make her own decisions, run her own life. ‘You can’t continue to vet all my boy-friends, you know.’ she teased, taking a chance that he would take the comment in the spirit in which it was made. ‘I’m grown up now!’
The look he gave her was that of a man and not a father, and Danielle flushed defensively as it encompassed her high taut breasts and slender body, before returning to dwell speculatively on her flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes.
‘So you are,’ he agreed gravely, his voice suddenly serious as he added, ‘You know that your happiness is my prime concern, don’t you, Danielle?’
When she nodded, he smiled. ‘So then there is no need for us to quarrel, is there?’
Weakly agreeing, Danielle was left with the definite sensation that she had been out-manoeuvred.
Her stepfather would have to face up to the fact that she could not live at home for ever, she decided later in the afternoon, preparing for a shopping trip with two friends from finishing school. One of them was training to be a model and the other was a dancer and had just obtained a contract to appear in a West End show. Danielle envied them their free and easy life style, although she was honest enough to admit to herself that the casual procession of men in and out of the lives of some of her friends was not for her. She enjoyed going out with boys and liked them as friends, but somehow she found herself shying away from the thought of a full-blooded affair, even, a little to her own surprise, viewing the idea of such intimacy with a certain amount of distaste. Could she be frigid? She tried to analyse her own instinctive objection to the use of the word, which immediately decried her innate sense of femininity. She would just have to accept that as far as sex was concerned she was a late developer, she decided humorously as she discarded the expensive clothes in her wardrobe in favour of a thin tee-shirt and clinging jeans; either that or she was too romantic, for certainly the thought of sex for sex’s sake did nothing for her, and as far as she could ascertain, for her, love must certainly precede the intimacies which other girls had described to her in giggled whispers.
Her friends were an entertaining duo; although coming from relatively wealthy families, they cheerfully searched markets for second-hand clothes of the twenties and thirties, and both, like Danielle herself, were dressed in the ubiquitous jeans and tee-shirts when they met her at the appointed rendezvous. Both girls were full of what they were doing and their plans for the future, and as they described the flat they were sharing and the carefree life they were leading Danielle felt quite envious.
At last Corinne, the dancer, asked her what her plans were for the future, and when told Corinne raised her eyebrows a little.
‘A restaurant of your own? That’s rather ambitious of you, isn’t it? I always had the impression that you were one of those girls who would marry early. In fact I’m surprised you aren’t engaged already, especially in view of your background.’
When Danielle looked puzzled she explained lightly, ‘Your stepfather, Dan. Don’t tell me he doesn’t have some eligible man waiting in the wings for you. I mean, in the Middle East the arranged marriage is still very much the thing, isn’t it, especially among the wealthy upper classes? A friend of mine was involved with one of them several months ago. She’s a girl who’s in the show with me, and it’s taken her simply ages to get over him. Apparently some of these men are really dynamite, if you’re prepared to accept that you’ll never be anything to them but something on the side.’
Danielle grimaced, not liking Corinne’s expression, descriptive though it was.
‘He loaded Vanessa down with jewels and expensive clothes,’ Corinne continued, unaware of Danielle’s distaste, ‘but when it came to the crunch—marriage,’ she elucidated when Danielle looked puzzled, ‘he told her quite categorically that there was simply no way he was going to marry her. Apparently there was some dutiful little bride already lined up waiting for him. Vanessa was simply furious, and she told him so, but he just laughed at her, apparently. Told her she’d been paid well for the pleasure her body afforded him, but it was over.’
‘At least she got something out of it,’ Linda observed cynically. ‘You hear some pretty unpleasant tales about what can happen to girls who get involved with Muslims in my business. The days are gone when rich Arabs were swept off their feet by fair skin and blonde hair. They’ve realised that everything has its price, and as everyone ought to know by now, when it comes to bartering they’re impossible to beat. Still, if a girl’s sensible she can still do quite well—jewellery, holidays, clothes that sort of thing.’
Feeling faintly sickened, Danielle said it was time for her to leave. It was hard to know who offended her innate sense of chastity most—the girl who so cynically sold her body for jewels, or the man who bought it. On balance she thought the man, because he was using the woman for nothing more than momentary satisfaction and thus completely debasing the very foundations of a mutually caring relationship between the two sexes.
‘Oh, Vanessa didn’t do too badly out of it in that respect,’ Corinne agreed carelessly, ‘but according to her this Jourdan was quite something, and what she really had in mind was marriage.’
Jourdan! The moment she heard the name Danielle went hot and cold all over. Perhaps it was silly of her to leap immediately to the conclusion that the ‘Jourdan’ Corinne spoke of was her stepfather’s nephew, and yet surely there could not be two wealthy Arabs with that same unusual name.
‘Are you okay, Dan?’ Corinne asked her with some concern. ‘You’ve gone quite pale.’
‘I’m fine,’ she lied, collecting her bag and standing up. ‘But I ought to be going. I promised my parents I’d be in for dinner tonight.’ It was a lie, but all at once it had become imperative to learn more about her stepfather’s family, and the only person she could ask was her mother, or failing that, her stepfather himself. On the way home she wondered why she had never thought to question the lack of contact with her stepfather’s relatives before;