Read Neither Five Nor Three (Helen Macinnes) for Free Online Page B

Then she stopped and stared at Paul Haydn. She was slightly taller than Rona, and where Rona’s hair and eyes were very dark, Peggy’s were light in colour. But she had the same straight nose, the same broad brow and rounded chin, the same warm smile. She was smiling now as she came forward, her surprise perfectly controlled, her hands outstretched. She had always liked Paul: it was through Paul that she had met Jon, after all.
    “Rona found me wandering on the streets on my first day home, and took pity,” Paul Haydn explained quickly. But there wasn’t much need to explain to either Peggy or Jon. They were never permanently surprised by anything Rona did.
    Jon, thinner than ever, his fair hair now losing most of its wave and some of its substance, his attractive angular face twisted into its shy smile, came forward more slowly. Then while Rona approved Peggy’s dress and couldn’t believe it was that old one, vintage 1946, done over, the two men looked at each other carefully as they shook hands. They had been friends at college, friends (when they saw each other, in typical rushed city fashion) in New York; and then, apart from a few early letters, they had lost touch during the war.
    “Congratulations,” Paul said, looking towards Peggy. “And I hear you’ve a family, too.”
    “Yes,” Jon said. He glanced at Rona. As her only male relative, he felt responsibility for her happiness. He wasn’t going to let anyone come back and disturb it, not even someone whom he had once liked as much as Paul Haydn.
    “It’s good to see you all happy,” Paul was saying. “And settled.” He looked directly at Jon, and Jon accepted the frankness of that look. He relaxed. His smile became easier. He began to ask some questions about Germany. He even answered a few about his days in the Pacific (he had been in the navy) and about his present teaching job at Columbia University.
    “You are both being too serious for a party,” Peggy reminded them when the doorbell started ringing and Rona hurried away to be the welcoming hostess. “Come and see us, Paul, if you can struggle as far uptown as Riverside and 108th Street. You and Jon can then be as serious as you like, and I’ll join in too if you’ll let me. Friday nights are good—no classes on Saturday morning for Jon, this year. There are always a few students dropping in to see us then—plenty of arguments and beer and sandwiches. But what on earth is keeping Scott so late?” For she was now looking at the doorway, where two men and three women had appeared, but still no Scott.
    Jon, at a sign from Rona, began mixing the drinks, Peggy passed the canapés and a bright smile, and Paul began shaking hands. Still more people were arriving. Some he remembered well, others—although they seemed to know him—were more difficult to place. But gradually, as he sorted them out, he began to recall something about them that made identification easier. The women were the hardest to remember, strangely enough, and the younger ones were cultivating the haughty look that the blonde in the Lexington bar had adopted. He found himself caught up in various friendly groups, passed along from one to the other by a greeting or a phrase. “Hello, there!”... “Look who’s here!”... “Well, well, our military expert. Paul, how are you?” And then conversation would begin as if he had only been away a couple of weeks from New York. They were taking his return as normally as they ordered breakfast, but there was a warmth in their voices, a welcome in their handshake that was a tonic. He relaxed, and began to enjoy himself.
    Then he found himself in a corner of the room, surrounded by a group of total unknowns. Rona he was partly amused to see—but only partly—had steered two of the prettiest girls in his direction, a blonde and a redhead. Rona, herself, was looking happier now. Had Scott arrived? Paul wondered which man he was...that handsome guy in the brown suit, or that one in