Shamed in the Sands

by Sharon Kendrick

  ‘Very funny. I’m talking about putting yourself through this ridiculous—’

  ‘Ridiculous what?’ she interrupted calmly. ‘Attempt to prove that I’m just like everyone else and that I need some sense of purpose in my life? Shock! Horror! Woman goes out to work and wears make-up!’

  ‘What does the doctor say about it?’ he growled.

  ‘She’s very pleased with my progress,’ Leila answered, sliding her mascara back into her handbag. ‘And it may surprise you to know that the majority of women work right up until thirty-six weeks.’

  She sat back and stared out of the car window, watching the slow progress of the early-morning traffic. Gabe’s car was attracting glances, the way it always did. She guessed that, when viewed from the outside, her life looked like the ultimate success story. As if she ‘had it all’. The great job. The gorgeous man. Even a little baby on the way.

  From the inside, of course—it was nothing like that. Sometimes she felt as if her marriage was as illusory as the many successful advertising campaigns which Gabe’s company had produced. Those ones which depicted the perfect family everyone lusted after with the artfully messy table with Mum and Dad and two children sitting around it, giggling.

  Yet everyone at Zeitgeist knew that the model father in the advert was probably gay and that the model mum’s supposedly natural beauty was enhanced by hair extensions and breast implants.

  No, nothing was ever as it seemed.

  Nothing.

  Gabe was still Gabe. Compelling, charismatic but ultimately as distant as a lone island viewed from the shoreline. And she realised that was the way he liked it. The way he wanted to keep it. They weren’t growing closer, she realised. If anything, they were drifting further apart.

  One evening, they arrived back at the apartment after an early dinner out and Gabe went straight to their bedroom to change. Minutes later he reappeared in jeans and a T-shirt, with his face looking like thunder.

  ‘What the hell has been going on?’ he demanded. ‘Have we been burgled?’

  Leila walked over to where he stood, looking at the room behind him with a sinking heart. He had left early for a meeting this morning and somehow she’d slept through the alarm and had woken up really late. Which meant that she had left home in a rush, and it showed—particularly as today was the cleaner’s day off.

  Automatically, she moved forward and started to pick up some of the discarded clothes which lay like confetti all over the floor. A pair of knickers were lying on his laptop. ‘I overslept,’ she said, hastily grabbing them from the shiny surface. ‘Sorry.’

  Her words did nothing to wipe the dark expression from his face, for tonight he seemed to be on some kind of mission to get at her. ‘But it isn’t just when you oversleep, is it, Leila?’ he demanded. ‘It’s every damned day. I keep finding used coffee cups around the place and apple cores which you forget to throw away. Did nobody ever teach you to tidy up after yourself, or were there always servants scurrying around to pick up after you?’

  Leila flinched at the cold accusation ringing from his voice, but how could she possibly justify her general untidiness when his words were true?

  ‘I did have servants, yes.’

  ‘Well, you don’t have servants now, and I value my privacy far too much to want any staff moving in—not even when the baby’s born. So if we’re to carry on living like this, then you’re really going to have to learn to start being more tidy.’

  The words leapt out at her like sparks from a spitting fire.

  If we’re to carry on living like this.

  Biting her lip, she turned away, but Gabe caught hold of her arm and pulled her against him.

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘It does. That came out too harshly. Sometimes I just...snap,’ he said, his head lowering as he made to brush his lips over hers.

  But Leila pushed him away. He thought that making love could cure everything—and usually it did. It was always easy to let him kiss her, because his kisses were so amazing that she always succumbed to them immediately. And when she was in his arms he didn’t feel quite so remote. When he was deep inside her body, she could allow herself to pretend that everything was just perfect. Yet surely that was like just papering over a widening crack in the wall, instead of addressing the real problem beneath.

  Sometimes she felt as if she was being a coward. A coward who was too scared to come out and ask him whether he wanted her out of his life. Too scared that he might say yes.

  She went into the bathroom and showered, and when she emerged in a cotton dress which was beginning to feel snug against her expanding waist, it was to find him sipping at a cup of espresso.

  He looked up as she entered the room, and suddenly his grey eyes were cool and assessing.

  ‘I have a deal coming up which means that I need to go to the States,’ he said. ‘Will you be okay here on your own?’

  ‘Of course,’ she said brightly, but, coming in the wake of their recent spat, his words sounded ominous.

  She walked over to the fridge and poured herself a glass of fizzy water, exaggeratedly wiping the few spilt drops from the work surface before going to perch on one of the bar stools.

  ‘How long will you be gone?’ she asked.

  ‘Only a few days.’

  Gabe saw the tremble of her lips, which she couldn’t quite disguise, and suddenly the coffee in his mouth seemed to taste sour. Yet he knew exactly what he was doing. He was insightful enough to know that he was pushing her away, but astute enough to know that he could offer her no other option. Because the thought of getting close to her was making him feel stuff. And that was something he didn’t do.

  He put down his coffee cup with more force than he intended.

  If only it could be different.

  His mouth hardened as he stared into the bright blue of her eyes.

  It could never be different.

  That night they lay on opposite sides of the bed, the heavy silence indicating that neither was asleep, though neither of them spoke. His sleep was fractured, his disturbing dreams forgotten on waking—leaving him with a heavy headache which he couldn’t seem to shift.

  He was just sliding his cell phone into his jacket pocket when he walked into the sitting room to find Leila looking at his passport, which he’d left lying on the table.

  ‘That’s a very sombre photo,’ she commented.

  ‘You aren’t supposed to smile in passport photos.’

  Leila found herself thinking that he wouldn’t have much of a problem with that. That unless the situation demanded it, his natural demeanour was unsmiling. Those chiselled cheekbones and cold eyes lent themselves perfectly to an implacable facade.

  She glanced down at his birth date and her heart gave a funny little twist as she glanced back up at him. ‘Will you phone me?’

  ‘Of course.’ He took the passport from her and brushed his mouth over hers in a brief farewell kiss. ‘And I’ll be back on Sunday. Keep safe.’

  But after he’d gone, all the energy seemed to drain from her. Leila sat down on the sofa and stared into space, her heart thumping like someone who had just run up an entire flight of stairs without stopping. The date on his passport was March fifteenth—the Ides of March. She knew that date. Of course she did. Wasn’t it etched firmly in her mind as heralding the biggest change in her life?

  She shook her head, telling herself not to be so stupid. It was a coincidence. Of course it was.

  Over the next few days, she was grateful to be able to lose herself in the distraction of work—glad that its busy structure gave her little time to dwell on the uncomfortable thoughts which were building like storm clouds in her mind. Alastair McDavid announced that Zeitgeist had just landed a big contract to advertise a nationwide chain of luxury
hotels and spas. And since spa clientele consisted mainly of women, it was in everyone’s interest to use a female photographer.

  ‘And we’d like to use you, Leila,’ he told her with a smile.

  Leila was determined not to let him down and the excitement of planning her first solo assignment was almost enough to quell the disquiet which was still niggling away inside her. Almost, but not quite.

  Sunday arrived and Gabe texted to say that he was just about to catch his plane. She wished she was in a position to collect him from the airport, but she still hadn’t learnt to drive. She had allowed her husband and his chauffeur to ferry her everywhere. It had been all too easy to lean on Gabe—and if she wasn’t careful that could get to be a lasting habit.

  Because for the first time she was beginning to acknowledge the very real fear that this marriage seemed destined to fail.

  She remembered his cold rebuke about her general untidiness, yet she hadn’t even factored in what the presence of a tiny baby was going to do to Gabe Steel’s ordered existence. What if he hated having a screaming infant in his slick, urban apartment? Wouldn’t he get irritated if she went off sex, as she’d been told that new mothers sometimes did?

  Her distraction grew as she showered and washed her hair, then picked out a long tunic dress in palest blue silk, which she’d brought with her from Qurhah. She didn’t question why she had chosen to wear that particular tunic on that particular day. All she knew was that it covered her body from neck to ankle and she wondered if she was seeking comfort in the familiar.

  She pinned her hair into a simple up do and made tea while she tried not to feel as if she was waiting. But she was waiting. Waiting for some sort of answer to a question she wasn’t sure she wanted to ask.

  What was it that they said in Qurhah? That if you disturbed a nest of vipers, then you should expect to get bitten.

  She heard the click of the front door opening and the sound of Gabe closing it again. He didn’t call her name, but his footsteps echoed on the polished wooden floor as they approached, and her heart began to race as he walked into the room.

  For a moment he stood very still and then he came over and kissed her, but she pulled away.

  ‘How’s Leila?’ he questioned, his eyes narrowing as they stared into her face.

  ‘I’m fine,’ she said brightly. ‘Shall I make some coffee?’

  ‘I had some on the plane. Any more coffee and I’ll be wired for a week.’ He glanced down at the stack of unopened mail which was waiting for him before looking up again. ‘So what’s been happening while I’ve been away?’

  ‘My...scan went well,’ she said carefully, her fingers beginning to pleat at the filmy blue fabric of her tunic. ‘And I have some good news. Alastair wants me to do the assignment for the new spa contract.’

  ‘Good.’

  She looked up from her fretful pleating and suddenly her throat felt so dry that she could barely get the words out. ‘And March fifteenth is your birthday.’

  He gave a short laugh. ‘Interesting that you should tell me in an almost accusatory manner something I’ve known all my life.’

  She told herself not to be intimidated by the coldness in his voice, nor to freeze beneath the challenge icing from his pewter eyes. ‘That’s the day we had...sex in Simdahab.’

  ‘And?’ His dark eyebrows elevated into two sardonic arcs. ‘Aren’t I allowed to have sex on my birthday?’

  She shook her head. She was still a relative novice when it came to lovemaking, but she was intuitive enough to know that something about him that afternoon had been different. Something she hadn’t seen since. There had been something wild about his behaviour that day. Something seeking and restless. She chose her words carefully. ‘You gave me the distinct impression that having spontaneous sex with someone you’d only just met wasn’t your usual style.’

  ‘Maybe you were just too irresistible.’

  ‘Is that true?’

  Gabe met the steady stare of her bright blue eyes and, inwardly, he cursed. If she was a casual girlfriend, he would have told her it was none of her business, and then to get out and leave him alone. But Leila was his wife. He couldn’t tell her to get out. And the truth was that he didn’t want to.

  He met her eyes. ‘No, it’s not true,’ he said quietly. ‘I seduced you that day because I was in Qurhah, a place where it’s almost impossible to buy whisky, which is my usual choice of drink on my birthday.’ There was a pause. ‘And in the absence of the oblivion brought about by alcohol, I opted instead for sex.’

  CHAPTER TEN

  LEILA STARED INTO eyes as flat as an icy sea as Gabe’s words hit her. Her fingernails were digging into the palms of her hands but she barely noticed the physical discomfort—not when this terrible pain was lancing through her heart and making it almost impossible for her to breathe. ‘You used me?’ she questioned at last. ‘Because you couldn’t get a drink?’

  His laugh was bitter. ‘There’s no need to be quite so melodramatic about it. People have sex for all kinds of reasons, Leila. Sometimes it’s because lust just gets the better of them and sometimes because it makes them forget.’ He threw his passport down on the table and looked at her. ‘I didn’t use you any more than you used me that day. I wanted oblivion and you wanted to experiment. Am I right?’

  Leila squirmed beneath the challenge of his gaze because his words were uncomfortably close to the bone. How could she deny his accusation when it was true? She had wanted to experiment, yes—but she’d had her reasons. What would he say if she told him that he had seemed to represent everything a man should be? Everything that she’d ever dreamed of. That for the first time in her life, she’d actually believed all those romantic films she’d been hooked on.

  Yet, in a way, maybe that had been seeking her own kind of oblivion. She had found pleasure with a devastatingly handsome and sexy man—and for a few brief moments she had forgotten the prison of her palace life. But she hadn’t really known him as Gabe, had she?

  She still didn’t.

  ‘What were you seeking to obliterate?’ she asked carefully.

  ‘It isn’t relevant.’

  ‘Oh, I think it is.’ She sucked in a breath and held his gaze as she let it out again. ‘Look, I get it,’ she said. ‘I get that you’re a very private man who doesn’t want to talk about emotions.’

  ‘So don’t ask me.’

  She shook her head as she ignored the cold clamp of his words. ‘But I have to ask you—don’t you see? I know all the psychology books say that yesterday is gone. But I don’t want to go on like this—not knowing stuff. I’m having your baby, Gabe. Don’t you think that gives me the right to know something about your past, as well as the occasional speculation about what our future might hold?’

  With an angry shake of his head, Gabe walked over to the window to stare out at one of the most expensive views in the world. It was ironic, he thought. You could buy yourself somewhere high in the sky, which was far away from the madding crowd. But no matter how much you spent or how much you tried to control your life—you could never keep the world completely at bay. You could only try. He could feel the hard beat of his heart as he turned round to face her.

  ‘It isn’t relevant,’ he said again.

  ‘It is,’ she argued. ‘We can’t just keep burying our heads in the sand and pretending this isn’t happening, because it is. We’re going to have a baby, Gabe. A baby which needs to be cared for. Not just cared for. Loved,’ she said, her voice faltering a little.

  ‘Don’t look to me for love, Leila,’ he said tonelessly. ‘I thought I’d made that clear from the beginning.’

  ‘Oh, you did. You made it very clear, and I wouldn’t dream of expecting you to love me,’ she said. ‘But surely our baby has the right to expect it. If you can’t show our baby love—and believe me when I tell you I’
m not judging you if that’s the case—then don’t I at least have the right to know why?’

  For a moment there was silence while Gabe looked at the set of her shoulders and the steady blue gaze which didn’t falter beneath his own deliberately forbidding stare. He knew what she wanted. What women always wanted. To find out why he didn’t show emotion or even feel it. It was something he’d come up against time and time again—and women were the most tenacious of creatures. Countless numbers had tried—and failed—to work him out. Powerful women, rich women, successful women—they all wanted the one thing which eluded them. They saw his cold heart as a challenge; his emotional isolation as something they wished to triumph over.

  Yet Leila’s question had not been tinged with ambition—rather with the simple desire to understand. She was the mother of their baby and maybe what she said was true. Maybe she did have the right to know what had made him the person he was. But wasn’t he scared to let her close? Scared of what might happen if he did?

  He surveyed her from between half-shuttered eyes. ‘What do you want me to tell you?’

  Leila was so surprised at his sudden change of heart that it took a moment before she could speak, and all the time her head was telling her to go easy. Not to scare him off with a fierce interrogation.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ she said softly. ‘All the usual things. Like, where you were born. I don’t even know that.’

  For a moment, there was silence. It reminded her of the moment before the start of a play, when the whole theatre was quiet and prepared for revelation. And then he began to speak.

  ‘I was born in the south of France. But we moved back to England when I was a baby—to a place called Brighton.’

  ‘Yes, Brighton. I’ve heard of it.’ Leila nodded and began reciting, as if she were reading from a geographical textbook. ‘It’s a seaside town on the south coast. Is it very beautiful—this Brighton?’

  In spite of everything, Gabe gave a glimmer of a smile. At times she seemed so foreign and so naive but of course, in many ways, she was. Maybe she thought he came from a background like hers and telling her that he had been born on the French Riviera would only feed into that fantasy.