Peacock's Walk by Jane Corrie Page A

Malcolm's friends. All she did know was that if he had not thought him a suitable partner for his daughter, he would have said so, for as kindly as he was, he would not have held his peace on this issue, and Jenny could only assume that he approved of him. This was a point in Mark's favour, for her father had been an astute man. It had since occurred to Jenny to wonder if her father had known of Malcolm's feelings for her, and she had come to the conclusion that he had known, for there was very little that he missed, in spite of his quiet unassuming nature.
    With an impatient movement she turned the photograph back to its original position so that the back of the frame was now presented to her, and her gaze swept over the contents of the large desk. It was then that her eye caught a tape that had been left in the centre of the desk, and under it a note. She drew in a breath of sheer exasperation; how stupid of her! She ought to have thought of looking before, but it hadn't occurred to her, and if she had not satisfied her curiosity over the identity
     
    of the subject in the photograph, she wouldn't have found the tape, for two large wire trays for correspondence blocked her view from the front of the desk.
    The thought that Mark had known that she would not be able to resist looking at the photograph gave her a few bad moments, but, she argued silently with herself, she would not have bothered to look at it if she hadn't had to use the telephone on his desk—but he wouldn't have thought of that, she told herself bitterly as she picked up the tape and read the instructions on the note that had been placed under it.
    The instructions were brief and to the point, and an added postscript told her that he would be back shortly after midday, accompanied by their American guests.
    For the rest of that morning Jenny threw herself into her work, refusing to be lulled back into memory lane by that persuasive, smooth voice of Mark's, but her cheeks flamed pink at an added soft reminder of his at the end of the second letter on the tape that she must remind him to have a bottle of Advocaat sent up to his room, and his dry, 'I presume you still have the same preference for it,' made her fingers freeze on the typewriter keys. She was not absolutely sure that he was referring to her, as it did occur to her that he might have originally meant the tape to be transcribed by his personal secretary, although there was no denying that she did prefer the drink he had mentioned.
    As her fingers flew over the keys at the start of
     
    another letter, she told herself that 'that was one instruction she would definitely not be carrying out! Mark might be in the habit of entertaining his secretary in his private rooms at his other hotels, but he was in for a disappointment if he hoped for the same arrangement with her.
    To think she might have married such a man, she thought indignantly. Tony hadn't been so far off, the mark at that. The man was a womaniser ! The sooner she got out, the better!
    When Tony rang her shortly afterwards, telling her that it looked as if he had managed to find a position for Boots at one of the smaller guest houses in Brighton, she felt a surge of relief flow through her. One down and two to go, she thought cheerfully, although it was a great pity that they couldn't all walk out en bloc—not that this happening would cause Mark Chanter any grief—if anything, joy, she thought shrewdly, but it would give her great satisfaction nevertheless.
    The American delegates invaded the premises shortly after midday, and Jenny, hearing the by now familiar accents floating up to her office window from the hotel entrance below, felt a glow of pride at the unrestrained comments of their approval of the chosen quarters for their stay while attending the conference.
    When she had owned the hotel, it would have been her policy to go down and greet her guests, now, as secretary, she stayed where she was, feeling in an odd way a little