Semi-Detached Marriage Read Online Free PDF Page B

directors how sales can be improved by a really modern
approach. Fashion wise those departments are still back in the Middle-Ages.'
    She paused as the waiter brought their first
course and poured the wine, looking at Simon with a puzzled frown. He didn't
seem to be sharing her excitement at all, in fact he had a rather frowning look
in his dark eyes. Which was unusual for him, usually he was right in there,
encouraging her, listening to her problems, giving advice and help. But tonight
he seemed to have something on his mind and didn't even look pleased to hear
her news.
    'Well,' she demanded as soon as the waiter
had gone,
    'don't you think it's the most marvelous
chance? If I make a really big success of it I might even be allowed to keep
the departments, because Mrs. Nichols is due to retire in a couple of years.'
    'And what does Mrs. Nichols do in the
meantime?' Simon asked drily.
    Cassie shrugged irritably. 'Oh, I don't know.
They'll find her something, they always do. Well,' she demanded again, 'what do
you think?'
    'It's a wonderful opportunity, of course.
But,' a rueful look came into his eyes, 'as a matter of fact I have some news
of my own. At the Directors' meeting I went to today it was decided to get rid
of the chap who's been in charge of the oil terminal up to now and put a new
man in his place. And the man would have to be at director level to have the
necessary authority to take over.' He picked up his glass and took a drink,
then set it down,. his eyes fixed on hers. 'And they've offered me the job with
a junior directorship.' 'A directorship?' Cassie's eyes lit up with surprise
and pleasure. 'Why, Simon, that's marvellous!' She went to go on, but Simon
stopped her. 'Is it?' 'Why, what do you mean?'
    Deliberately he replied, 'To get the
directorship I have to take the job-and the job means that we'll have to leave
London at once and go to live in Scotland for at least three years!'
     
    CHAPTER TWO
     
    FOR a full minute Cassie could only stare at
him in dumbfounded amazement. Then, her voice sticking in her throat, she
stuttered, 'Scotland? For three years?
    It's a joke, yes? Please tell me it's a
joke,' she added, watching him hopefully, but he didn't answer, just sat
looking at her with the same half rueful, half troubled expression. Slowly she
sat back with a sigh and put down her fork. 'You're not joking.'
    'Afraid not, darling.'
    Cassie shrugged. 'Oh, well, the idea was nice
while it lasted. Never mind, darling, I expect something else will come along
some time soon.'
    Simon's eyes narrowed slightly. 'For whom?'
Eyebrows rising in surprise, Cassie replied, 'For you, of course. Mullaine's
are bound to offer you another directorship sooner or later.'
    'Not necessarily. Vacancies for junior
directors aren't that thick on the ground. If I turn this one down for no
reason they're going to think twice before offering me another.'
    'But you've got a reason,' Cassie pointed
out.
    'It's in Scotland. No one in their right mind
is going to bury themselves alive in Scotland for three years!'
    'Except the few million Scots who happen to
live there,' Simon put in sardonically.
    'Unfortunately the poor things are stuck with
it. But that's neither here nor there.' Cassie dismissed the entire Scottish
population with a shrug of her shoulders.
    `Simon, you can't even contemplate going
there. Why, the place is dead, a cultural desert. It's all snow, football
hooligans, and those dreadful accents that you can't understand a word of. And
didn't you say that the oil terminal is on the coast, absolutely miles from
anywhere?'
    'It is in a remote spot, yes. It has to be,
for fear of an accident, but…'
    'You mean it's likely to blow up at any
moment?' Cassie interrupted caustically. 'Charming!' Simon's features hardened,
his lips drawing into a thin line. 'That's always a possibility that has to be
taken into account when any kind of fuel is being stored. But the site
director's house is over a mile from the terminal, you